


One Wing

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Complete, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: "...Let’s make a wager.” “A wager,” Spock said slowly. “What do you propose?” “A simple test. No more, no less.” “Tell me what I need to do.” “Oh, no, this test isn’t for you. The wager is for you. The test is for your young counterparts...do you believe in fate?”Kirk and Spock find themselves on a strange planet with no weapons, no communicators, and no clue what the hell is happening. They have no way of knowing that Spock Prime's life depends on their choices.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim Kirk drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair in a steady, agitated rhythm. A quick _one-two-three_ followed by a short pause, then _one-two-three-four_ and pause, before returning to the short, sharp three count. In front of him, the screen didn’t change. There was nothing to watch, nothing to see, and nothing to distract him from the slow-burn of anxiety. _One-two-three._

“Spock.” 

“Captain?” 

Kirk considered his question, reconsidered, and began the unsteady rhythm again. “Never mind. Wait.” He rose, studied the view screen for another moment, and gestured. “Come with me.” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

“Sulu, you have the conn.” 

“Yes, Captain.”

Kirk didn’t glance behind him to make sure that Spock was actually following him. He could sense the Vulcan just behind him, walking in perfect step as they entered the lift. His fingers were still moving, now tapping silently against his thigh. He knew that Spock noticed the not entirely unconscious act, catalogued it, considered the implications, and drew his own conclusions before the lift’s door closed. 

“Captain, did you wish to speak to me?” 

“Yes. What is going on?”

Spock’s eyebrows came together in a question. And maybe a little bit of…chastisement. “Sir?” 

“With…look, I know you haven’t seen him, but what is going on with the other Spock?” 

“I’ve seen him.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I have spoken to the other version of myself several times.” 

Kirk blinked. “What? Who let you do that?” 

“I was not aware that I was forbidden from speaking to him.” 

“You’re not _forbidden_. Well, not in so many words. I just thought…” 

Spock watched him patiently, waiting for him to finish. “Yes?” 

_I thought the universe would implode_ wasn’t exactly a dignified response. “Nothing. Look, what is going on?” 

“With the other Spock?” 

“Yes, with the other Spock. What is going on? What’s the emergency?” 

If it were possible for Spock to look pensive at all, he did so now. “Sir, I do not think it is my place to discuss it.” 

“What? There literally isn’t a better candidate on the ship.” 

“Except for the other Spock.” 

“I don’t think he’s in any condition to talk to me.” Which was a complete understatement. The older Spock—the much nicer Spock—had been alternately comatose and delirious since joining them on the Enterprise. Sarek had made it very clear that Spock needed to be left alone to rest. Dr. McCoy had absolutely refused to be dismissed, and insisted that the older Spock needed medical care and _he_ would be the one to provide it. Though he did agree with Sarek’s orders of solitude and rest. 

“Have you spoken to Dr. McCoy?” 

“Yes.” 

“And he has not provided an answer for your questions?” 

Kirk nearly growled with frustration. Did Spock really think they would be having this conversation at all if Bones had provided the answers he was looking for? Also, why was Spock asking so many questions? He was supposed to be the one with the answers. Answers Kirk intended to learn. 

“No.” 

The doors slid open, and Kirk led Spock off the lift. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, but he knew he needed to keep moving. It occurred to him that he could march into sickbay and demand an audience, or at least some sort of explanation. 

“But you know what’s wrong with him, don’t you?” Kirk asked. 

“I do not know the specifics, Sir.” 

“Then tell me what’s wrong with him in general. This conversation isn’t going to be over until I have the answers I want.” 

“It’s a highly personal topic for Vulcans.” 

“ _What_ is a highly personal topic for Vulcans? Look, I’m worried about him, okay? And everybody being all weird and secretive is not helping.” 

“Nobody is being all weird and secretive, Captain.” 

“You are. And I want an explanation. Now.” 

“Very well. I didn’t mean to disobey any of your orders, but the issue is one that is very…personal for Vulcans. I believe that he is suffering because of his bond mate.” 

“I have no idea what that means, Spock.” 

“When Vulcans mate, they do so for life. There is a very intense telepathic bond between the two mates, and when it is disrupted, it can cause a sort of madness.” 

“Disrupted how? Is it because of what happened to…” Kirk stopped. He didn’t like to reference the destruction of Vulcan in front of Spock, if he could help it. Not because Spock ever reacted visibly when the loss of his world came up, but because Kirk thought it was insensitive at the least, if not outright dickish. 

“I do not know. But that is why Sarek instructed McCoy to keep him sedated as much as possible. When he is awake, he’s in pain.” 

“So is Uhura your mate?” 

For a brief moment, Spock actually looked flustered by the question. “I do not wish to discuss it.” 

“I just meant that maybe if Uhura is yours, she’s his as well.” 

“It’s impossible to say. Our timeline is now completely different from his, and he is much older. He might have been mated to somebody I’ve never met. Or somebody who did not survive the destruction of Vulcan.” 

Kirk frowned. “What is he going to do if that’s the case?” 

“That is why he’s seeking out the wisdom of the Vulcan counsel.” 

“Are you worried about him?” 

“It is not logical to be worried about him right now, Captain. It will not do him, or us, any good.” 

Kirk sighed. Spock was right, as per usual. But that wasn’t going to stop him from worrying. He couldn’t comprehend what the older Spock was going through. He didn’t even fully understand why he was suffering at all, but he didn’t want to grill Spock on Vulcan customs. He could, and he could compel Spock to answer him, but he suspected that it wouldn’t actually make him feel better. The reality of the situation was that he was helpless. He could take Spock from Starfleet Academy to New Vulcan, and he could make sure that nothing got in their way or impeded their progress, but ultimately, he was powerless. 

He hated that. 

“Is there anything else, Captain?” 

“No. Just…do you think he’s going to be okay? Tell me the truth.” 

“I could only speculate.” 

“Then speculate.” 

Spock sighed and bowed his head for a moment, as though taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “I don’t know, Jim. I’ve never experienced what he’s going through, and I don’t know how severe the symptoms are.” 

“Pretty severe, judging from the message we got from Starfleet.” 

“Jim…they’ll know what to do when we reach New Vulcan.” 

The promise was meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t, but the fact that Spock tried was enough to make Kirk smile a little. “Thank you, Spock. That’s all.” 

“You’re sure, Captain?” 

“Yes. Just make sure I’m alerted if there are any changes.” 

Spock nodded slightly and returned to the lift, clearly heading back to his position on the bridge. Kirk considered joining him, but dismissed the idea. He was only making the rest of the crew nervous. He didn’t anticipate any problems en route. 

He went to his quarters instead, his mind in a fog of anxiety. Spock’s explanation of what was happening didn’t actually help at all. Or it helped a little bit. Spock didn’t really have a lot to say, but he did have an understanding of what was happening, even without all the information. The Vulcan counsel would certainly have all the information, and that would mean they’d certainly have a solution to the problem. Then the older—nicer—Spock will be cured, and things will go back to normal. 

Kirk liked that plan. He would just have to make sure it happened that way. 

The door to his quarters shut behind him, and suddenly, he wanted to be out of there. Sickbay, or the bridge. Anywhere that wasn’t alone in a room with his thoughts. Instead of walking out, he flipped the switch on his computer. 

“Captain’s log. Just had an interesting, albeit unhelpful, discussion with Spock. He claims that the older Spock’s problem is related to the loss of his bond mate. When I indicated that I don’t know what that means, he told me Vulcans mate for life. Unfortunately, he didn’t explain what that really had to do with anything. Is this some sort of psychological disorder? Is this a physical problem? What if his bond mate is dead now? Could a replacement be found? And why is he ill now? Is it related to the loss of Vulcan? Is it…” 

Kirk sighed and sank into his chair.

“I’m really…worried. About Spock. About Spock’s future. McCoy and Sarek have made it clear that I should not see him. I haven’t pushed the issue because I don’t want to make things worse. But…” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “How much worse can it get? McCoy is using powerful sedatives on a Vulcan who is, quite frankly, very old. How can his system support that? And what’ll happen if McCoy is forced to stop? How strong is he? Is he a risk to anybody on this ship? More importantly…is he a risk to himself?” 

McCoy wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but why else keep a person sedated? Especially somebody like Spock? 

“Without any real answers, or explanation, I don’t have many options…unfortunately. Except one. Make sure that Spock makes it to New Vulcan without any sort of delay. If I’m going to be a glorified delivery boy, I’ll be the best damned delivery boy in the quadrant.” 

Kirk had more to add, but he was interrupted by the flashing red alert light. “Bridge to captain.” Uhura’s voice. “There is an intruder on board. Bridge to captain.”


	2. Chapter 2

When human beings had strong emotional reactions, they located the source of their pain in the chest area. The heart, to be specific. Of course, there was a physiological explanation for this. The human body naturally responded to certain stimuli with the constriction of veins, which naturally affected the blood flow to and from the heart. Emotions existed entirely in the body. They were metaphorically spoken of as existing in the heart, or in the more poetical phrases, the soul. But emotions were much more mundane than that. They were much more physical than that. Emotions were in the blood. 

Spock felt like he had been sliced open, and each organ had been methodically cut from his body. The pervasive ache colored the world a deep red. He couldn’t see past it. He couldn’t function. He was not unfamiliar with pain. In all of his years, he had been weak with it, been brought down, had even died. This was worse. This was his skin, his flesh, his mind, his very core, crying out for a presence that simply did not exist. He had already made his peace with this absence once. He did not have the strength to do so again, and no amount of meditation, no amount of medication, no amount of logic could fix it now. 

The sudden cry of pain from millions of Vulcans still echoed in his mind. That was what Sarek had told him, somewhere in the midst of images and darkness and voices and silence. His defenses were weakened to the point that he was genuinely vulnerable and then…

And then he had made a mistake. 

That’s what Sarek had said. 

Spock flowed in and out of consciousness, unable to control the path of his mind. His training had failed him. He should have been able to correct his thoughts, but he could not. There were so many fragments, he couldn’t even begin to put them in a coherent construction. Everything was shattered. Somebody touched his mind—somebody who shouldn’t have, and now everything was broken. Everything was broken inside of him, and there was no unity between his body and his mind. 

Emotions lived in the blood and his blood burned. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my old friend.” 

Spock recognized the voice, but he didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t. 

“I bet you’re surprised to see me, aren’t you? Except…you’re not really seeing me. Well, no matter.” 

“What are…?” 

“Somebody should tell your Dr. McCoy that all the drugs in the known universe can’t help you. Not now.” 

The voice was closer now, absolutely looming above him. Or maybe it was only in his head, mocking him almost pleasantly. Spock’s head hurt. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

“Your pain…it’s like a siren song. I must admit, I’ve been watching the events of the past twenty-five years with great interest, but I didn’t see this one coming.” Fingers touched his brow. Spock tried to jerk away. “You’re burning up. A fever this high could drive you insane.” 

“What do you want?” Spock finally forced out. 

“Well, isn’t it obvious what I want? I want to help you, of course, my old friend.” 

“How?” 

“That’s a silly question. Besides, it’s not any fun if I just tell you everything right up front. Why don’t we start by you telling me what you need?” 

“I don’t…” 

“I want to help you, Spock. I really do. But before I can do anything, I need to know what you need. “ 

Spock finally opened one eye, and was more than a little surprised that his eyes verified what his ears had been telling him. This wasn’t any regular visitor. Q was staring at him, in his amused, expectant way. He was wearing a typical Vulcan robe, and he had his fingers steepled together as he loomed over Spock, gazing down on him. He looked like a child watching a particularly entertaining, if somewhat perplexing, insect. 

“Well? Are you going to answer me?” He tiled his head thoughtfully. “No, I suppose not. You’re barely even here with me. Let’s fix that.” 

The weight that had settled on Spock’s tongue lifted, and his throat opened, allowing him to breathe more easily. He didn’t know if his difficulty came from the drugs or something else, but either way, he could finally speak freely, even if he still wasn’t up to moving. 

“Q. I didn’t expect to see you. Ever.” 

“Do you really think I’d miss all this fun? Or miss the opportunity for more?” 

“You think this is fun?” 

“Oh, it’s good fun. It probably doesn’t seem that way to you right now, but trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d be having a great time.” 

“Doubtful.” 

“I could leave you with your torment, if that is what you want.” 

“I suspect that’s your ultimate plan.” 

Q touched his chest with mock horror. “I’m hurt that you would think so little of me, Spock. I’m here to offer you my services. I want to help you.” 

“What’s the catch?” 

Q sat on the edge of bed, casually crossing one knee over the other. He watched Spock with disdainful eyes, though his mouth was curled in amusement, and somehow, he still managed to look offended. “There is no catch, Spock. More like…a wager.” 

“No.” 

“Are you really in the position to fight with me? You’re going to die sooner rather than later. Are you ready to die? Here? Alone? On a ship that isn’t even your Enterprise?” 

“I had no idea you were so concerned by the reason, or the method, of my death.” 

“I’m bored. But you…you might offer me some entertainment that’s worthwhile. Well, maybe not you personally.” 

“I am not interested in playing your games, Q.” 

“Perhaps not. But you will. Tell me what you need.” 

“I am not going to discuss this with you.” Spock hoped that sounded final. It was difficult to gauge the tenor and force of his own voice. 

“Yes, you are. Because I’m the only choice you have right now. You’re too human, Spock. Too human by far.” 

Spock regarded Q without blinking. “Yes, my mother was human. As you well know.” 

“But because you are so human, I know that you’re going to tell me what you need. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about humans, they’ll do everything they can to continue their rather pathetic existences.” 

“A sense of self-preservation is only logical.” 

“It’s not a matter of logic for humans, and it’s not a matter of logic for you. Tell me what you need.” The final sentence was said in a sing-song. Spock realized that Q had no intention of leaving. They would be stuck in that same conversation for an eternity. 

“James T. Kirk.” 

“Captain Kirk? He’s here on this ship.” 

“No. He’s not. He’s been dead for some time.” 

“Ah, yes. You mean the Captain Kirk from your own universe.” 

“Very astute,” Spock said dryly. 

“Do you want him back?” 

Spock pushed himself into a seated position. The fire was singeing his flesh. He knew he could not attack Q, but that didn’t do anything to suppress the urge. Parts of him that didn’t hurt before now ached. Why was Q tormenting him? What had he invited this sort of illogical game? 

“Whatever desires I have are completely inconsequential.” 

“You’re right. We shouldn’t be discussing your desires. We should be discussing what you need. Which, if you recall, is what I tried to open this conversation with. Do you _need_ him back?” 

The answer to that question had always been yes. From the very second that Spock learned Jim Kirk had died on the Enterprise-B, the answer had been yes. He had been devoted to Kirk as an officer, as a friend, and as a lover for what felt like the majority of his existence. He could barely even remember a life without Kirk, and yet, he had continued. He had accepted the death and continued his life in the best way he could. In the only way he knew how. Kirk was still the first thing he thought of when he woke, and the last person he thought of before he went to sleep. 

“Yes.” 

Q beamed with pleasure at the simple word. “Of course, you do. Now we can finally get down to business. Let’s make a wager.” 

“A wager,” Spock said slowly. He knew better than to play any game that Q proposed, but he also knew that Q was the only being in the Universe who could conceivably make good on his bet. “What do you propose?” 

Q’s smile turned into something far more animalistic. “A simple test. No more, no less.” 

“Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Oh, no, this test isn’t for you. The _wager_ is for you. The test is for your young counterparts.” 

“You mean…” 

“Yes, the much younger Spock and Kirk. Do you believe in fate?” 

“The concept of fate is highly illogical. The fact that we all exercise free will reveals that.” 

“Do we? Is that why you’re here like this? Huddled up in the dark like some sort of animal? Because of _free will_?” 

“I am in this condition because of my Vulcan biology and heritage,” Spock said calmly. “It has nothing to do with fate.” 

“It’s just a question of biology, why are you in here alone? Why aren’t you soothing your Vulcan biology on the younger Kirk? I’m sure if you told him your life depended on it, he’d be agreeable to anything you need.” 

“No, I couldn’t…” 

“There are over four hundred people on this ship. I’ll go grab somebody from the corridor right now. Do you have a preference? Man? Woman? Human? Something more exotic?” Q folded his arms. “No, that wouldn’t do.” 

“It was not fate. I chose him.” 

“Perhaps you think you did.” At Spock’s frown, he waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s change the terms of this discussion a little bit. Do you think you would choose him again? Do you think he would choose you?” 

“What are you trying to suggest? I am growing old, Q, and I do not have time for this.” 

“Well, you do.” Q grinned. “I’ve stopped time. We could stay here and talk about it for eternity.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“I’m merely trying to give you some peace of mind. I’m not wasting any of your time. Now, the question.” 

“What was the question again?” 

“Do you think that you two would choose each other again?” 

“What if I don’t?” 

“Then the test and the wager will never happen, I’ll start time again, you’ll arrive at New Vulcan and learn they can’t do anything for you.” 

“Perhaps we should speak to Kirk and Spock. You can ask them.” 

“That’s no fun at all. Let me tell you what I have in mind, and we’ll go from there. Fair enough?” 

“Fair enough.” 

“I will simply place Kirk and Spock on a planet. I will arrange it so they must work together in order to get off the planet. If they make it off the planet together, then I’ll be satisfied, and you shall have your Kirk back.” 

“What if they can’t work together to get off the planet?” 

“They’ll die.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Q sounded genuinely surprised. “No? You don’t trust the captain of a Federation Starship and his _first mate_ to survive in a hostile world with nothing but each other? That is, quite frankly, very disappointing. Though it’s basically what I’ve come to expect from Starfleet, I’ve got to admit.” 

“I refuse to let their lives be placed in balance with mine.” 

“Aren’t you needed here, Spock? Rebuilding an entire planet, an entire civilization, takes a lot of work. In this dimension, the loss of a single Vulcan is deeply felt. Especially a Vulcan as intelligent and talented as you. Besides, if anything were to happen to you…don’t you think your younger counterpart would resign his commission in favor of his duty to Vulcankind?” 

“Am I to believe you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart?” 

“I am merely doing this out of boredom. An eternity is a lot of time. And who doesn’t love a good wager? This is exciting. But the choice is yours, Spock.” 

There really wasn’t a choice at all. If he accepted Q’s deal, he was putting both Kirk and Spock in danger. If he refused Q’s offer, he would most certainly die in a very painful, probably prolonged way. Worse, he had no doubt that his younger self would feel compelled to leave the Enterprise in favor of his depleted civilization. 

But more than that, Spock did have faith in Kirk and Spock. 

“You have a deal.” 

“Oh, good. I promise, Spock, this is going to be _fun_.” He grabbed Spock by the hand. “Let’s go.” 

Spock didn’t have the chance to ask where they were going. As soon as he felt Q’s touch, they plunged into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Kirk jumped to his feet. “Location of the intruder?” 

“Sir…” 

“I said, where is the location of the intruder?” Kirk snapped. 

“The intruder appeared to be in Ambassador Spock’s room, but…” 

Kirk didn’t wait for more explanation. He tore out of his room and down the corridor, shouting at the crew to get out of his way, shouting for security to follow him. How did an intruder get on the Enterprise? How did an intruder get on _his_ ship and find Spock? Somebody had clearly been asleep at their post, and Kirk wasn’t going to tolerate that sort of behavior at all. When he found out just who was responsible for this, there would be hell to pay. Heads would roll. 

He burst into Spock’s quarters, phaser at the ready, only to pull up short. 

“Captain.” 

Kirk spun around. “Where is he?” 

Spock shook his head. “I do not know.” 

“You don’t _know_? What the hell is going on here? Who was in here? Where is he?” 

“Sensors showed that there was an unaccounted life form in this room, and then it was almost immediately gone.” 

“Where did Ambassador Spock go? What do the sensors say about that?” 

His first mate shook his head. “I do not know.” 

“Figure it out. Now.” He punched the button on the wall. “Scott? Did anybody beam on or off the ship?” 

“No, Captain. No signs of anybody transporting.” 

“Well _somebody_ did.” 

Spock paced around the room, surveying the area and carefully studying the bed. “There are no signs of a struggle.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything. He was unconscious.” 

“True, Captain. But we need to eliminate as many possibilities as we can.” 

Kirk held down the intercom again. “Chekov, are there any other ships in the area?” 

“No ships, Sir. And no signs of life, either.” 

“Where’s the nearest planet?” 

“I don’t know, Captain. It is unidentified.” 

Kirk’s frown only deepened. “What do you mean? Were we thrown off course?”

The pause before Chekov was so long that Kirk wondered if the ensign simply hadn’t heard him. “Aye, sir.” 

“Then where are we? And I really don’t want to hear that you don’t know.” 

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Figure it out.” 

“That may not be possible,” Spock said. 

“Why not?” 

“We could be in unexplored space. In fact, we could be anywhere.” 

Kirk sighed. “And that means Ambassador Spock could be anywhere.” 

“Precisely.” 

Kirk put his hands on his hips and looked around the room, searching for any hint, any sign, anything he could possibly use. He knew for a fact that Chekov and Scotty were inspecting the computer banks, trying to find any anomalies. If there were any, they would find them. He needed to let them do their jobs. All he wanted to do was tear the Enterprise apart, piece by piece, until he had his answer. 

“How long did the sensors pick up an intruder?” 

“2.3 seconds.” 

If Spock hadn’t been beamed out of his ship, what had taken him in 2.3 seconds? What could possibly have grabbed him in such a short period of time? 

“Right. First, we’re going to eliminate everything it can’t be. Spock, I want you and Scotty to be in charge of that. I’m going to send a landing party down to the planet to see who or what is down there. All non-essential personnel are to remain in their quarters while security does a quick sweep. And I want to see Sarek in the briefing room.” 

Spock opened his mouth to respond, but there was nothing but silence, as though the words were stolen right from his throat. His lips moved, and his eyes widened with the realization that despite his best efforts, he wasn’t making a sound. Kirk immediately rushed forward, his own question trying to bubble to the surface. _Spock? Spock, are you okay? Are you hurt?_ But there was nothing. Not even the sound of breath wheezing uselessly from his throat. 

More surprised than alarmed, Kirk grabbed Spock’s arm. Or tried to. Everything was very slow, like they were moving under water. Or somebody had tampered with the artificial gravity. Before he could even comprehend that, things started to move away. The furniture, the walls, the intercom, all drifted further and further back. They moved slowly and all at once. It was gradual and sudden. Kirk couldn’t decide if his stomach was in his throat or on the other side of the constantly shifting room. The only thing that made even a little bit of sense was Spock. He was still solid, and Jim had no intention of letting go of him. 

As swiftly as it begun, it was over. Only, instead of standing in Ambassador Spock’s curiously empty quarters, they were on some sort of planet, with the night sky twinkling benignly above them. 

“What the hell just happened?” Kirk asked slowly. 

Spock blinked. “I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t know at this time.” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“I don’t believe so. Are you?” 

“No. No, I’m not hurt. Just…” He turned in a slow circle. “Very confused. Any idea of where we are?” 

“No. Captain…do you have your phaser?” 

“My phaser? Yes, it’s right…” He touched the place on his hip where his weapon should be, and ended up stroking air. “Where’s my phaser?” 

“Mine is gone, as well.” 

“What about your communicator?” 

“Negative, Captain. I don’t even have my tricorder.” 

A small part of Kirk just wanted to sit down right there in the dirt and not move again until he had everything figured out. The rest of Kirk knew that there was too much work to be done to indulge that desire, even if he was more than a little scared. He automatically looked up, scanning the heavens for any flash of light that could be the Enterprise, but if she was up there, he couldn’t spot her. From the corner of his eye, he saw Spock doing the same thing. 

“We take care of the basics first. Find shelter and fresh water. Then…we’ll find a way off this rock.” 

“Logical plan, Captain.” 

He knew Spock wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t mean it, but at that moment, Jim wasn’t sure if he agreed with his first mate. Real fear was starting to gather at the base of his spine. They were alone on a hostile world. At that moment, they were standing under trees, and he heard what could only be water flowing in the distance, but that didn’t mean they were near anything edible. That didn’t mean the water was potable. 

Kirk would have sunk into his bleak thoughts, except for the roar that literally shook the ground beneath his feet. At that instant, it didn’t matter that he was a captain of a starship. It didn’t matter that he had been educated and trained by the best in Starfleet. It didn’t matter that there were rules and regulations designed to deal with just this sort of situation. Every instinct in his body responded at once, shouting at him to _flee_. To run fast, to run far, and to never look back because whatever that thing was, it wanted to _eat_ him. 

Kirk didn’t have the strength to fight those instincts. He didn’t even have the desire. While the roar still echoed around them, making the leaves shake with its force, Kirk bolted. 

#

“Captain Kirk and Spock have gone missing,” Chekov announced, a thread of pure alarm coloring his voice. 

“What?” Sulu asked.

“They’re…they’re gone. They’re not on the ship anymore.” 

“They’re gone where?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“How can you not know?” Uhura demanded. “I’ll find them.” 

Chekov shook his head. He could have told Lieutenant Uhura not to waste her time, but he wasn’t going to. If Sulu wanted to stop her, then that was his prerogative. In the meantime, Chekov was going to run every scan possible, study all of his sensors, and then go over the Enterprise with his own fine tooth comb. 

“Bridge to Captain. Bridge to Captain. Captain, do you read me?” Uhura pressed her earpiece to her ear. “Captain, do you read me?” 

“Captain, this is Scott.” His voice filled the bridge. “There’s been no sign of anybody transporting on or off the ship.” 

“Bridge to Captain. Captain Kirk? Jim?” Uhura turned to address Sulu. “He’s not answering.” 

“He’s not answering because he’s not on the ship,” Chekov said softly. 

“Spock? Do you copy?” 

“What about their communicators?” Sulu asked. “Can you try to reach them through those?” 

Uhura studied her console. “I’ve opened up all the frequencies but there’s nothing. Just…silence.” 

Sulu looked down for a moment, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. Chekov wanted to offer something helpful, but he didn’t have anything to say. How could two people just disappear from the ship? No. Three. How could three people disappear from the ship? 

“Lieutenant Uhura, contact Starfleet. Tell them exactly what’s happened.” 

“We don’t know what’s happened.” 

“Then tell them what we know. Chekov, take Spock’s station. Start scanning the area for any signs of life.” 

“There are dozens of planets…” 

“Then scan each one of them.” 

“Aye, sir.” 

“What has happened? Where is Ambassador Spock?” 

Chekov tensed at the Vulcan’s question. Sarek made him nervous. He didn’t know why. It was something about the older man’s dark eyes. Or maybe his deep voice. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was a Vulcan. Spock made him nervous, too. They looked like predators. They even watched like predators. Chekov knew it was ridiculous. Well, a little bit ridiculous. Spock had nearly killed Kirk right on the bridge, so he supposed it wasn’t completely ridiculous to be a little bit afraid. 

“He’s gone,” Sulu said, standing. 

“He’s gone? He’s gone where?” 

“We don’t know.” 

“You need to find him.” 

“We’re…” 

“You _need_ to find him,” Sarek repeated. “If he’s not brought back and put under care, he’s going to die.” 

“No.” 

Chekov gasped. A small, involuntary sound. 

“Captain Kirk and Commander Spock are also missing, and they’re our priority.” 

Sarek’s brow furrowed. “They’re both gone?” 

“Yes. And we’re going to find them.” 

“How?” 

Sulu took his place in the Captain’s chair. The sight of him there sent a strange shock down Chekov’s spine. He was still a little scared, but at that moment, he believed Sulu wasn’t. 

“Logic. And maybe a little bit of luck.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jim Kirk ran. His legs ached, but he didn’t stop running. His lungs burned, but he didn’t stop running. A thousand tiny tree branches, a thousand bugs, a thousand flecks of dirt stung his face, but he still felt the growl. He didn’t even hear it. He _felt_ it. Inside of him. His chest, his ears, his throat all vibrated from it. His toes vibrated. No matter how far he ran, no matter how many miles he put behind them, he couldn’t stop feeling it. Which didn’t even make sense, but it was a fact. A fact that couldn’t be outrun. 

Nothing could make that sort of sound. That’s what the reptilian part of his brain told him, and the rest of his brain agreed with that assessment. _Nothing_ could make that sort of sound. Anybody would have ran in that situation. Because running was the smart thing to do. The only really sane thing to do if one didn’t want to die. And Jim most definitely didn’t want to die. 

Had Spock run? 

That was the question that ultimately brought Jim to a halt. As soon as he stopped moving, his muscles turned to water, and he thought he might hit the ground. Doubling over, he wheezed through his gaping mouth, trying to replace all the oxygen he had burned from his system. What if the atmosphere was too thin? What if he suffocated right there, alone on some strange planet, with the devil himself howling somewhere in the distance? Would he die alone? Not if Spock followed him, but there was no sign of his first officer. 

“Spock?” 

With some effort, he straightened and surveyed the area. It was lush with grass and blossoms. Unlike before, there was no sound of running water anywhere nearby. Though he thought the area either had to get a great deal of rain, or the plants were growing near a natural spring. He probably wasn’t going to be dehydrated, though the thought only made his throat burn with thirst. In fact, he had never been more thirsty in his life. 

“Spock?” 

He turned around, considering walking back the way he came. But the limbs had already snapped back into place, obscuring his trail. The forest was dark, the shadows seeping the color from the trees until there was nothing but a void. All the stories he had heard as a child of animals and monsters and witches living in the woods rose up again, unbidden, filling his mind. They probably wouldn’t have even received a second thought, except for that growl. It had been hungry. Like whatever was back there hadn’t had a proper meal in years. 

“Spock! Now would be a really good time to show yourself!” 

Nothing moved. There wasn’t even a breeze to rustle the trees overhead. Nothing but the stars lit the clearing, and he didn’t expect more light any time soon. It was going to be a very long night. Of that, he had no doubt.   
“Clearly, then, running was a very bad decision. Shouldn’t have done that. In fact, the next time my instincts tell me to run as fast as I can, I’ll take more time to think about the implications.” Kirk moved as he spoke, keeping his blood flowing. The last thing he needed was for his muscles to get tight. He decided to keep talking. For one thing, Spock’s sharp ears might just pick him up in the night time silence. For another thing, he liked the sound of his own voice. He found it comforting. Like, if he just kept talking, everything would turn out okay in the end. 

“For example, if I had considered the implications now…” He paused to pick up something that slightly resembled an acorn. Finding possible sources of food was probably a good idea. “I probably wouldn’t have bolted. Now, I’m stuck without a communicator, without a weapon, and without Spock. Spock would have been pretty useful for finding food and as a weapon. Also, if he were here, I wouldn’t be talking to myself. Which would probably be better for my sanity.” 

The acorn looking thing might have been food, but the shell was far too strong for him to crack. He tossed it aside, and it landed silently on the thick grass. “I’ve got to find Commander Spock. If I go back the way I came, I run the risk of walking in circles and getting myself even more lost. If I stick around here, then I’ll just be…sticking around here. Which is pretty boring.” 

It _was_ pretty boring, but the right, sensible choices usually were the boring ones. Spock had more of a chance of finding him, and that was just a basic fact. Spock knew which direction he had run. Spock had sharper ears and sharper eyes. Spock was smart enough to follow tracks, and Kirk was almost completely certain he had left at least a few of them. He had also run in mostly a straight line, diverting his path only when the underbrush became impossible to navigate. 

Spock would follow him. That was the most logical course of action for the Vulcan. And if Spock followed him, then Spock would find him. He just needed to sit tight and wait it out. How hard could that be? 

#

Jim Kirk had never been given such a difficult task in his life, and he was quite certain he would never again be asked to do anything as impossible. Without a chronometer or any understanding of the stars above him, it was impossible to mark the time. Minutes could have been hours, and he wouldn’t have known the difference. All he knew was that he was alone and Spock had not emerged from the trees, clothes unwrinkled, feathers unruffled. At that point, Jim would have been more than happy if Spock emerged from the trees clearly shaken, dirty, and entirely un-Spock like. 

“I can’t sit here forever. For one thing, I’ll probably freeze to death. For another…Spock could be hurt.” 

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he couldn’t shake it. Spock could have been chased down by that thing—never mind that Spock was faster than Kirk and anything _he_ could outrun, Spock should be able to. Unless the only reason he made it was because Spock had blocked the creature’s path, thus giving Jim more time to make his getaway. That thought was even more unshakable than the first. Spock would absolutely put his body between danger and his captain. 

What kind of captain would he be if he didn’t go back? 

Not a very good one. 

Jim pushed himself to his feet and peered into the darkness again. His path hadn’t exactly been visible before, but now it seemed even more impossible. Spock could be anywhere. He could also be cornered by some big, horrible, unthinkable creature. Cornered and waiting for Kirk. That thought spurred him into action. He didn’t know where he was going, but that wasn’t going to stop him from getting there. 

The grass was spongy beneath his feet. Damp from something, but not damp enough to leave marks in the ground. He tried to keep to a straight line, except when the underbrush was a little too heavy to plow through. He kept his ears tuned to any sound that might be Spock, that might lead him in the right direction. More than once, he reached for his communicator. It didn’t seem possible for it to be gone. He was too accustomed to it being an extension of himself. 

Did that mind melding thing only work when Spock was touching somebody? Jim had never asked for details on just how that thing worked. It was enough for him that it _had_ worked. He saw everything Spock had seen, he felt everything Spock had felt, and knew every thought in Spock’s mind. Just for a split second, but that split second was enough. He had never tried to speak to his first officer about what had happened because he felt very protective of Ambassador Spock’s privacy. Even from himself. He had the feeling that Spock had shared more than he might have with anybody else. 

Beyond the crippling pain—the pain so great Jim could barely comprehend the edges of it—beyond the horror, beyond the regret, there was something else. Spock had been relieved to see him. That relief had nearly been happiness. When their minds touched, it had almost felt like…

Kirk pushed the thoughts away. Dwelling on that moment wasn’t going to do any good. It wouldn’t help him find Spock—either one of them. It had probably just been what Spock had called emotional transference. Nothing to get nervous about. Well, he wasn’t exactly nervous. More like curious. And intrigued. But not so intrigued that he should let it distract him from the task at hand. 

“Spock? Spock!” His voice echoed off the trees. Each time he shouted, it bounced back into his own ears. Was it possible Spock didn’t hear him? And if Spock couldn’t hear him, what did that mean? There were too many options, and he didn’t want to mull on any of them. “Spock? 

He wasn’t sure how many miles he covered before he really started to feel the burn in his muscles. The darkness weighed on him, like a physical being. It was hot. Had it always been so hot? Sweat poured down his neck and back, and his shirt stuck to his skin. It hadn’t been this hot before. He was certain of it. When he had been running, the wind had been whistling against his face and through his hair, keeping him cool. But if the big creature thing didn’t get him, the heat would. He’d need to find water. And soon. 

“Spock! Spock? For God’s sake!” 

Spock didn’t answer, but he did hear the hint of water flowing over rocks. Somewhere above the sound of his own heart thundering in his ears. He was going to collapse sooner or later. It was the heat. That was the only explanation that made sense. And just where was the sun? He had been walking for what felt like hours, and there wasn’t even the hint of sunshine. The planet did have a sun, otherwise he would have frozen to death already, and none of these plants would be there. So just how much longer did he have to wait? 

“Spock! Please!” 

His legs began to tremble, shaking with his own weight, with the weight of the night, with the weight of his concern. Kirk veered to the right on a whim, nearly tripping over a thick patch of brush in the process. Limbs twined around his feet like thin, skeletal fingers, and it was all he could do to keep his feet beneath him. Right up to the point when he couldn’t keep his feet under him for another second. He had enough time to register the fact that he was falling, that he was going to land on his face, and he was probably going to get a mouthful of mud. He was just grateful nobody was there to see it. 

Jim didn’t get a mouthful of mud; however, water did fill his sinuses. He sputtered and rolled to his side, trying to catch his breath. Something bitter landed on the back of his tongue and he realized with horror that it was the water. Except, it wasn’t water at all. Whatever he had fallen into, it definitely wasn’t a big puddle of water. 

He quickly pushing himself to his feet, gasping with horror, his entire body retching with the need to rid himself of the pollution. 

“What _is_ this?” He tried to wipe the taste out of his mouth, but he just spread mud across his face. “Spock?” 

Jim could see the bright specks of reflected stars in the pond, or puddle, or whatever the hell it was. They moved as he watched them. Rippled. As though somebody had tossed an invisible stone into the liquid. The ripples didn’t die. They multiplied and moved in a widening circle until they reached the shallow banks. 

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” 

The tree directly in front of him was at least six feet in diameter. And it snapped in half as though it was nothing more than a twig. Or a bone. It sounded like a bone breaking, too. A cold, hard _snap_. Followed by another and another. 

Jim’s imagination had constructed an image of the creature he must have heard. It was really just a conglomeration of all the giant animals that chased him in the past—and there were too many of those damned things. But everything had been wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. 

The beast growling at him was much worse than anything he could have imagined.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim couldn’t find his feet. The mud refused to give him a grip and his legs betrayed him. Running was a perfectly valid response to the teeth that were probably as long as his arm, to the snarl that reverberated off the distant hills, to the dark, oily eyes that reflected cold starlight. The thing was big—very big—and it positively loomed over him when he fell on his ass and stared up at the monster. Once again, he automatically reached for his phaser. Once again, he got nothing but a handful of air. 

He scrambled backwards, pushing himself through the mud and muck until his shoulders hit an unforgiving tree. The water—or whatever it was—seeped through his clothes, soaking him to the skin. Jim barely noticed, except it was freezing. Until the monster roared at him, and the resulting gale of wind sliced through him. _I’m going to die. Holy shit, I’m going to die. Fuck._

With a tree against his back, Kirk was able to push himself to his feet. His eyes never left the advancing creature, and his legs were weak. He needed to run. He couldn’t move. He literally couldn’t move. He looked down, his eyes widening in horror. The skeletal twigs that he had tripped over before were literally wrapped around his ankles, holding him down, forcing him to stay in place. 

“Spock! SPOCK! _SPOCK!_ ” 

Another roar, but this one didn’t come from the beast that had him cornered. His mind refused to register what his senses were trying to tell him. His ears told him that the source of the sound was Spock. Except that Spock didn’t even growl, much less _roar_. His eyes told him that Spock was leaping out of the brush, moving like a silver streak through the darkness. Except that Spock didn’t move like silver streaks. He was fast, of course. Kirk had seen that with his own eyes. But he wasn’t a killing machine. He wasn’t an _animal_. 

It was too dark to see exactly what Spock was doing. But he could hear it. The sound of a fist hitting a soft, fleshy snout. A high, almost whimpering, growl of pain. And then the soft _oompf_ of the monster collapsing to the mud. 

“Spock, what happened?” 

“Captain. Are you all right?” 

“Yeah, I should be. I’m stuck.”

“Don’t move.” 

Spock crouched at Kirk’s feet. Before he could ask what Spock was doing, he felt Spock rip the tight, twining limbs from around his ankles. Without thinking, he put a hand down on Spock’s shoulder, using the Vulcan to stop himself from falling. Spock hissed as soon as Kirk touched him, jerking away from the contact. 

“I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

“No, Captain.” He slowly straightened, until they were eye level. Despite the very strange events of the night, Spock looked normal. Maybe his eyes were a little darker than usual, but it was difficult to tell in the dim light. “You just startled me.” 

“Oh. Have you ever been startled by anything before?” 

“It’s a dangerous area.” 

“Where have you been? Did you hear me calling you?” 

“I heard you, Captain. But I can’t see in the dark, can I?” 

Jim didn’t actually know if Spock could see in the dark. He had sharp ears, and super-strength, and was probably the most intelligent person Kirk had ever met. Why shouldn’t he be able to see in the dark, too? 

“Is that thing going to wake up again?” 

“Yes. Soon. We should get moving.” 

Jim agreed. “Where are we going?” 

“I found a cave. Not far from here.” 

“You were looking for a cave? Why weren’t you looking for me?” 

“I was looking for you. That is when I found the cave. It’s near a fresh source of water.” 

“Please, please tell me that the water is actually, you know, water. And not whatever I got a faceful of over there.” He had to hurry to keep up with Spock’s long strides, and some voice whispered that that wasn’t right. Either he was injured and just didn’t realize it yet, or Spock was moving much, much too fast. 

“It is fresh water, Captain.” 

Well, that was something. Maybe if it was a stream, he could get a bath. Something was starting to smell of rotten vegetation and milk gone sour, and he had the strong suspicion that the smell was coming from him. 

“So…did you do that nerve pinch thing on that animal?” 

“Yes.” 

Jim waited, expecting more information about how it worked, how Spock knew it would work, and if he thought it would work again. Of course, Spock didn’t add anything else because he had already answered Jim’s question. 

“How did you know where the nerve was?” 

“I…” The pause was so brief, anybody else would have missed it. But Jim knew his first officer. They might not have been great friends, but Jim was pretty adept at reading him. “I merely selected the most logical location for the nerve.” 

“Of course. Do you think there are more of those things around?” 

“No, I do not believe so. I have only seen evidence of one in this area.” 

“But it’s going to wake up sooner or later.” 

“Yes. That is why it’s best to seek out shelter in the cave.” 

Jim couldn’t argue with that. Especially since he couldn’t remember being so exhausted in his life. His legs burned. The stitch in his side was growing by the second, with each step. His back hurt. He kept up with the Vulcan easily, but he knew he was running on an almost empty tank of adrenaline. 

“We’re here,” Spock announced. 

_Here_ didn’t look like a cave. It looked like a hole in the ground. A tiny little hole. He supposed there could be a huge cavern down there, but he didn’t want to drop into it. He didn’t want a huge monster to stomp on their ceiling and send dirt and rocks raining down on their heads. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. It is the most logical place to seek shelter for the night. The animals will not be able to pass through the entrance, and we can disguise the opening with brush for further safety.” 

“Where’s the water?” 

“This way, Captain.” 

Jim told himself he was fine, but the first step he took nearly sent him sprawling to his face. Again. Only this time, they weren’t standing in slick mud. They were on flat, solid stone. Jim wasn’t sure what he stumbled over. Maybe a rock. Maybe his own toes. Regardless, he was on his way to a truly spectacular face dive, when Spock grabbed his arm and tugged him upright again. 

“You’re tired, Captain.” 

“No, no. I’m fine.” 

“You typically do not have trouble walking.” 

“I tripped.” 

“There is nothing here to trip over,” Spock pointed out reasonably. 

“I’m fine,” Jim repeated. “Really. Everybody stumbles at times.” 

“Perhaps we should descend into the cave.” 

“No, I can’t handle this smell anymore. I need to wash it off.” 

Spock was still holding onto him. He didn’t really mind. At least, not enough to pull away from the contact. He was especially grateful for Spock’s strong hand when they began to descent into…something. Jim couldn’t really see, but he did hear the familiar sound of water splashing against rocks. 

“God, why is it so dark?” 

“No moon, Captain.” 

It had been a rhetorical question. He didn’t need Spock to remind him that there was no moon. In fact, he was starting to believe he would never be able to see anything but shadows and darkness again. 

He pushed away from Spock and splashed his way into the water, unmindful of the fact that he was still wearing his clothes. When he was chest deep, he bent his knees and ducked his head beneath the still surface, letting it wash the muck from his face and hair while he took a big swallow. It tasted like water was supposed to taste, and it soothed the pain in his throat. As he surfaced, he turned and opened his eyes. 

To see Spock staring at him. 

Spock had watched him in the past. In fact, Spock spent a great deal of time watching him. Jim had no problems with being the center of attention, so he never complained or brought it up at all. But before, Spock had merely watched him with curiosity, as though he was trying to learn something new about his captain. Or trying to learn everything about his captain. But this was different. 

This was so different. 

The moon made its appearance, finally showing its yellow face over the towering trees, casting a strange pale, golden light on the water. Spock was caught in that light, his hands in fists at his side, his eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth closed in a tight line. He pinned Jim with his dark gaze, and there was something…something…about him that reminded Jim of the huge beast he had just stared down. Spock’s eyes weren’t like an oil slick, and he wasn’t roaring with hunger, but those seemed like insignificant differences. So small they barely required mentioning at all. 

Because Spock looked like he had every intention of devouring Jim Kirk.


	6. Chapter 6

Jim’s fingers were shaking as he pushed his damp hair from his eyes. He promised himself that was because the water was very, very cold. Ice cold. Of course he was shivering. It would be strange if he _didn’t_ . Except, Jim wasn’t feeling the water at all. He had gone completely numb. His fingers weren’t even tingling, and he didn’t notice the small beads of water rolling down his face. He could not, would not, look away from his first officer. He had never been caught in a staring contest with a Vulcan before, and God willing, he never would be again. It was an extremely unsettling experience. 

For one thing, at the distance, he couldn’t read Spock’s eyes. Not that he could ever read Spock’s eyes. They were always dark and impenetrable, and now they were locked on Jim’s shivering form, and what was he supposed to do about that? Wave? Shout Spock’s name? Ignore him? At first, he seemed utterly expressionless, but Jim already knew that Spock was never without expression. If you know how to read the pull of his mouth, or the shape of his eyes, or the arch of his brow, then you could probably at least guess at what was going on inside of his calculating mind. But he couldn’t read anything on Spock’s face. 

Except hunger. 

Jim made one effort to break eye contact and pull his gaze away, but he failed. Spock’s eyes were like tar. Like the ancient mammoths that sunk into tar pits, Jim was trapped. But unlike them, he wasn’t helpless. Not entirely. He had the ability to take one step, and then another, and another. Water made his clothes heavy, and though the pond was still, it felt like a current was holding him, dragging him back down. Each step made his already exhausted muscles throb. It was almost too easy to imagine himself sinking to his knees, collapsing into the soft mud shifting beneath his feet like quicksand. 

“Spock?”

“Captain?” 

Despite the strange way he stared, he sounded normal. Perhaps the hunger he had seen on Spock’s face was just a trick of the light? Or maybe he had been projecting his fear, somehow. He had just sprinted through a strange world with an even stranger monster on his heels. Maybe…

A cloud passed overhead, briefly blocking the golden light from Spock’s face. When the shadow faded away, Spock was still staring at him with the same unnerving intensity. Clearly, it hadn’t been a fluke. 

“Are you injured, Captain?” 

For once, he was grateful that Spock insisted on using his title rather than his name. “No, just tired. And hopefully I’ve washed the worst of the smell off.” 

“It would be wise to remove your clothes.” 

Jim blinked, pausing just before stepping onto the moist bank. “What?” 

“They will dry quicker if you take them off. As will you.” 

A perfectly logical explanation. One that Jim couldn’t even counter. He did want to dry off quickly. The last thing he wanted was to get sick on a strange planet, without any supplies, food, or decent shelter, while his ship and Bones were God knows where. But he felt a curious bout of shyness, and at that moment, it seemed entirely impossible for him to strip down in front of Spock. 

He followed Spock back to the cavern. It was too dark to see just how deep the cavern was, but Spock assured him that the drop was minimal, and there was nothing on the floor that could hurt him. Since he had no reason to believe Spock wanted him injured or mauled to death, he took his first mate at his word, and lowered himself into the shadows. He released the grip he had on the edge of the entrance, and for a beat of his heat, he hung in limbo. Nothing moved. Spock stared down at him, nothing more than a silhouette against the growing moonlight. 

Then he hit the ground. On a normal night, he would have landed in a neat crouch, letting his legs absorb most of the impact. But it wasn’t a normal night, and he had misjudged, shifting his weight at the last second. His knees buckled, giving out beneath him, and he hit the ground. He didn’t even have the chance to catch himself. His waterlogged clothes didn’t help matters, and once he was down, he realized he was going to stay down. 

“Captain? Jim? Are you hurt?” 

“No.” He rolled onto his back and exhaled slowly. “Just my pride.” 

“What happened? Did you trip?” 

“No. Not exactly.” 

Spock grabbed his wrist, as if to haul him to his feet, but he never got that far. At the contact, something _rushed_ through Jim. It made him think, rather incoherently, of a sonic boom. A dense wave of sound pushing through him, driving him backwards, away from Spock. Spock must have felt it, too, because he instantly broke the contact and stepped to the side. 

“Captain…” 

“What was that?” 

“I…” 

“What the fuck _was_ that, Spock? Don’t tell me you don’t know. In fact, I don’t want to hear the words ‘I don’t know’ from you again. Do you understand?” 

“Understood.” 

“Good. Now, what the fuck was that?” 

“I am at a loss, Captain.” 

Jim groaned and dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He was shivering, his wet clothes growing colder by the second, and his throat hurt again, and the parts of him that weren’t shivering were still quaking from the all-too-brief touch from Spock. Most annoying of all, he was half-hard, and why his body thought it was a great time for _that_ , he had no idea. He wasn’t in a particularly sexy mood. On top of all that, the smell of sour milk was encroaching on his senses again. 

“Spock?” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

“Build a fire.” 

“I shall endeavor to do so.” 

“Thank you.” 

A fire was good. That worked for him on multiple levels. First, he was tired of being cold. Second, the smell of burning wood would at least mask the stench he couldn’t wash away. Third, it would give Spock something to do besides stare at him—he had had just about all the staring he could take for a single night. Finally, it felt good to bark out orders. Proactive, even. He may not know where the hell he was or what the hell was going on, but he could still give orders. It was a very small comfort. 

“Captain?” 

“What?” 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Cold, Mr. Spock.” 

_What the fuck was that?_ Was it something from the planet itself? Was it some sort of alien, invisible, noncorporeal creature? An energy being was a distinct possibility, though somewhat farfetched. Still, it was the best working theory he had. After all, Spock had touched him countless times without sending a blast of…what? Energy? Something else? 

_Stop thinking about it so much. It’s not going to help the situation. Think about other stuff. Like, where the hell is your ship?_

Excellent question. He missed his ship. He missed his chair. He missed all the times that Spock looked at him or touched him without scaring the hell out of him. Those were good times. 

Spock moved in the dark with the sort of efficiency that Kirk had come to expect from his first mate. He didn’t bother to sit up, though. He was just going to rest for a few more minutes, and once Spock had the fire started, he would get out of his sodden clothes and then he and Spock would discuss their options. 

While Jim was naked. 

He frowned. That wouldn’t do. He didn’t know where this shyness came from, but every instinct he had told him he needed to keep his clothes on and his feet flat on the ground. Two pieces of advice he had never really paid attention to in the past. It seemed like sound advice now, though. Exceptionally sound advice. In fact, when he returned to his ship—and there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that he would—he’d make sure his entire crew understood the true depth of wisdom in that motto. 

Except his clothes really were starting to reek again. 

He heard Spock climb in and out of the cavern, bringing back fresh armloads of wood every few minutes. He should have offered to help. But Spock seemed to have the situation under control. _Like when he killed that monster._

_He didn’t kill that thing_ another voice responded. 

_Right, but it still freaked you out._

Well, it had a little bit. But what were the alternatives? Get eaten alive? Jim suspected that would have been far more terrifying than seeing Spock fly out from the dense underbrush. 

_How did he know just when and where to attack? Was that just luck?_

It wouldn’t be the first time luck had saved his life. And it wouldn’t be the last. So no sense dwelling on that aspect. 

After Spock’s sixth armload of wood, he finally got down to the business of making fire. They didn’t have any tools or matches, but Jim wasn’t concerned. If anybody could summon fire out of thin air, it was Spock. Within minutes, he had done exactly that, and as soon as the flames started licking at the woods, a sweet, heavy smell filled the cavern. 

“We’re not going to suffocate in here, are we?” Jim asked, only partially joking. 

“The chances of that happening are exceptionally small,” Spock responded evenly. 

“How small?” He never passed up the opportunity to hear Spock give unbelievably precise odds. Something about it tickled the gambler in him. 

“Just…small.” 

Jim frowned and sat up. “Spock? Is there something wrong?” 

“Nothing is wrong, I assure you. Now come over here and dry yourself.” 

That sounded suspiciously like an order. Hell, it _was_ an order. Jim had heard that tone of voice before, and his automatic instinct was to remind Spock that he was the goddamned captain, even if they weren’t on the Enterprise. On the other hand, he didn’t have the energy to pick a fight, and he really did want to be dry. Plus, he had ordered the fire. 

He sat up slowly and peeled the shirt from his shivering frame. The relief was immediate, and he inched closer to the fire, hungry for the heat. For the first time, he realized it was cold. Genuinely cold. Not just cold from the water. He wiggled out of his pants next, relieved that the boner had subsided at least. That was really the last thing that he wanted to deal with, or explain to Spock. Despite the coolness of the material, he kept his shorts on. 

“I trust that this is an improvement.” Something about Spock’s tone was still…commanding. Like he was daring Jim to say that it wasn’t an improvement at all. 

“Much better. Thank you.” 

“It was nothing.” 

The dismissive response brought back Jim’s irrational need to snap at his first officer. Damned right, it was _nothing_. It was only following orders. He wasn’t performing a personal favor for Kirk. 

“Do you require nourishment?” 

“No. After getting a faceful of…whatever the hell that was, I’m not sure I ever want to eat again.” 

“That is not a logical response. You must eat to keep your strength up.” 

“Do you have food?” 

“I have found berries and other vegetation that should be edible.” 

“Should be, huh? Well, no offense, Spock, but I don’t really need the bad trip, or the stomach cramps, or the death that could accompany poorly chosen berries.” 

“You will eat.” 

Jim looked up sharply, trying to read Spock’s face in the flickering light. As before, there really wasn’t anything to read. His face was a solid mask, and his eyes seemed to absorb the light. “Excuse me?” Jim said, summoning all the bravado he could to disguise his sudden nerves. “Where is this attitude coming from all of a sudden? I’ve got to say, Spock, it doesn’t really suit you.” 

“You should not speak so impertinently,” Spock replied coolly. 

“What?” 

“It is unacceptably rude to address another in that fashion. You will refrain from doing so in the future.” 

“Um…okay, Spock. I don’t know what your deal is, but it’s pretty much going to end now. I have enough problems without you getting all weird on me.” 

“You are in need of a lesson on manners.” 

“You’re in need of shutting your mouth. That’s an order, Mr. Spock.” Normally, he wouldn’t have spoken so harshly, but he wasn’t in any sort of mood for this. He just wanted to get warm, survive the night, and find his ship. Nowhere on that list was a fight with Spock. It also didn’t include being lectured at by Spock. 

Apparently, his first mate wasn’t working from the same list. He rose slowly, his body unfolding in the flickering shadows. Suddenly, he seemed much, much taller. Far too tall for that cramped cave. “You will not speak to me that way.” 

Jim jumped to his feet, unmindful of the fact that he was mostly naked, unarmed, and no physical match for the obviously annoyed Vulcan. “I’ll speak to you any way I feel like speaking to you, Commander. Or have you forgotten that I’m you’re captain?” 

“I have not forgotten, but it is immaterial to me.” 

Kirk had thought he’d been afraid before. Running through a strange world with a giant, man-eating beast hot on his heels? That was scary. Being trapped in place while that same man-eating beast prepared to bite him in half? Scary, hell, that had good, old-fashioned nightmare fuel. Being completely cut off from his ship? That was an actual nightmare come to life. 

But the sudden understanding that something was very, very wrong with Spock? That was real fear. That was terror previously unnamed. They needed each other to get through this. They needed to work as a team. They couldn’t survive and get off the planet otherwise—that much was obvious. Alone, all Jim could do was stumble around in the dark. 

And he had never felt more alone than he did at that moment.   
   
#

“You are cheating.” 

“I am not a cheater,” Q responded haughtily. 

“You are cheating right now.” Spock’s words were flat statements of fact. “This was not part of our arrangement.” 

“No, that’s where you’re mistaken, Spock. It’s not not part of our arrangement, and thus, it is fair game.” 

“You are saying that since I didn’t specify this was against the rules, then it’s fair game?” 

“Precisely.” 

“The game was already rigged in your favor. I want to end this now.” 

“No.” 

Spock wasn’t surprised by the refusal. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have specified an out. Something he could employ if things were becoming too dangerous. Of course, if he had been thinking clearly, he wouldn’t have agreed to this insane wager to begin with. But he had agreed, and now Q was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat. 

“How can they hope to win your challenge in Spock’s current state? You have stripped him of everything that makes him who he is.” 

Q shook his head. “I’ve done no such thing. His intellect is still intact. His logic is still employable, should he wish to use it. Even his Human half is still present, and aware of the situation. I have merely…made him more of who he is.” 

“No, that is an inaccurate description of the situation.” 

“What’s the matter, Spock? Are you afraid of that dark side? The primal emotions and illogical reactions still lurking inside of you?” 

Spock calmly shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve long ago made peace with that aspect of myself. I have had the time and the experience to help me reach this peace. My young counterpart, on the other hand, is still learning how to control his emotions. He’s still grappling with finding a balance, a calm state. You have made the situation immeasurably worse.” 

“Have I? Tell me, Spock. What helped you reach this state of enlightenment? Or should I say, who?” Q’s smile shifted. “Are you sure that you have the _cajones_ to continue with this wager? Or would you like to forfeit?” 

At any other time, with anybody else, Spock might have pointed out the illogical aspects of Q’s words. All of them. But now there was no time. “You are playing with forces you don’t understand, and with lives that you have no right to.” 

Q sniffed. “So arrogant. It’s said that humans are the most arrogant species in the galaxy, but I’m quite certain that they have nothing on Vulcans. I know what forces I’m _playing_ with, Spock. I’m Q. I know everything. Don’t worry about young Mr. Spock. He’s still there. He’s just…”

“Buried,” Spock provided. “Under an avalanche of emotions he won’t be able to contain or understand.” 

“Then you and he both better hope that James Kirk is up to the challenge.” 

Spock shouldn’t have been surprised by Q’s actions. He should have expected as much, in fact. A part of him had thought that Q would try to secure the odds in his favor, and he had even briefly wondered if Q would manipulate the young Spock by forcing him into his Pon Farr. As bad—as terrible—as that would have been, Spock thought it was far more preferable to the current situation. The Fever could eventually be assuaged. But a Vulcan stripped of all logic and self-control, stripped of higher purpose, stripped of intellectual curiosity, could not be soothed. That Vulcan would require submission, and it didn’t matter the universe, the timeline, or the planet, Jim Kirk simply would not offer that sort of submission. 

Spock couldn’t lose the conviction that he had doomed all three of them with his hasty acceptance of Q’s wager.


	7. Chapter 7

“Sir, long range sensors are picking up what could be another starship,” Chekov announced, bringing the rest of the Bridge to a halt. 

“Where?” Sulu demanded. 

“They are almost out of range of the sensors…I would say 30 earth hours.” 

Sulu absorbed the news, his frown deepening. He could have turned over command to Scott, but the chief engineer hadn’t made any efforts to regain it. He was on the Bridge now, waiting for Sulu’s decision, wearing an identical thoughtful frown. 

“Could they have beamed the captain and Spock from the ship?” 

“I’m telling you, nobody was beaming anybody around,” Scott immediately said. 

“Aye, there’s no indication that anybody was beamed off board,” Chekov agreed. 

“But could they have and made it that far away so quickly?” 

“Possibly,” Scott answered. “It depends on what sort of ship it is and how much power they have. But it’s possible.” 

“Lieutenant Uhura, are you picking up any signals from them?”

“Scanning now.” She pressed her earpiece closer to ear, then shook her head. “There’s nothing out here, Sir. But I’m continuing to monitor all frequencies.” 

Sulu took a deep breath. “Chekov, set a course to intercept. Continue to search for any lifesigns.” 

“Aye.” 

Sulu hit a button on his console. “Security?” 

“No signs of any intruders,” came the prompt response. 

“Other than the one that was in the Ambassador’s room?” 

“Correct, Sir.” 

“Keep looking. If you find anything at all suspicious, let me know. No matter how small.” 

“Aye, Sir.” 

Sulu steepled his fingers, touching them to his mouth. The new ship was probably a dead end. He knew it, and so did most of the crew. Or the other ship could be Klingon or Romulan, or some other, unknown enemy. Still, as long as there was a chance that Kirk and Spock were on board, no matter how small that chance might be, Sulu was obligated to investigate. If necessary, he would personally investigate every corner of the galaxy. 

#

“Spock…” For the second time that night, his instincts were screaming at him to get the fuck out of the way of the predator. But this time, Jim fought those instincts and stood his ground. “What are you doing?” 

“You are insolent.” 

“Well, yeah. That’s kind of old news, Spock. I know you’ve read my personal record.” 

The way the shadows played on Spock’s face was almost hypnotic. Jim almost felt like he could stare at them all day. Spock’s hands were clenched at his side, and the tension in his muscles held his frame taut. Kirk knew he wasn’t completely vulnerable to Spock. He wasn’t as strong as the Vulcan, but he was fast on his feet when he had room to move. He was also unpredictable, and Spock still did not quite grasp the concept of a bluff. It was as though he expected all of his opponents to be as honest about their intentions as he was about his. 

Even so, this wasn’t going to be a regular brawl. This wasn’t going to be a fight he could throw himself into with abandon, releasing all the anger and pain and frustration inside of him until he was nothing but a hollowed out, bloody husk. This was going to be a real, honest-to-God, fight. And from the way Spock was staring him down, maybe even one to the death. And over what? 

“Spock, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing is wrong with me, Captain.” 

“A ha! So you remember that I’m your captain?” 

“I’ve never denied it.” He was still moving, still advancing. How could he move like that? He was barely even walking. It was more like a glide, like he was literally slipping through shadows. Jim wanted to ask about it. He wanted to ask his first mate a lot of things he didn’t understand about Vulcans in general and Spock in particular. But there never was a correct time. There were only bad times and worse times. This moment, for example, was a worse time. 

“Striking a superior officer is a court martial offense, Mister.” 

“I have not struck you.” 

“Threatening a superior officer is still an offense.” 

“Have I threatened you?” 

“I’d say that you have.” Jim held up his hand. “Just stop. Right there. Don’t move.” 

Spock didn’t stop. He advanced several more steps until he was literally standing toe to toe with Jim. 

“And that’s insubordination and refusing a direct order.” 

Spock responded by gripping his left shoulder with fingers like steel bands. He didn’t use enough force to drive Kirk to his knees, but it still hurt. A lot. He bit back his surprised yelp and tried to shrug Spock’s hand away, but it was completely immovable. Like it had suddenly become a part of him. 

“Unhand me. Now,” Jim ground out. 

He didn’t understand what Spock did next. He didn’t understand anything Spock did, but he especially didn’t understand this. The painful grip didn’t relax, but his thumb brushed over Jim’s collarbone in the lightest, most delicate manner. In fact, it felt a lot like a caress. Jim could have tolerated that, but then he felt another _boom_ , another wave of energy flashing through his body. His knees went weak, and his tired legs trembled from the impact, but Spock kept him upright. 

Spock’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Fascinating.” 

Jim shrugged again, trying to loosen Spock’s hold. It didn’t work. “ _What_ is fascinating?” 

“You have so many…emotions. You’re so angry.” 

“Goddamned right I’m angry.” Kirk’s fingers closed into a fist and he swung wide, connecting solidly with the side of Spock’s head. “Let me go.” 

Jim might as well have been a fly for all the good that did. Spock didn’t even blink, though now his hand was throbbing. He pushed him instead, forcing him to walk backwards until he was pinned against the cave wall. It was damp, and the rocks were rough and abrasive against his bare skin. 

“Spock…please…what are you doing?” 

Spock tilted his head, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Captain, I…I don’t feel like myself.” 

“Yeah, clearly. And you’re kind of freaking me out here. So why don’t you just let me go…” 

“I…cannot.” 

“What?” 

“The connection between us. It is…I don’t wish to break it.” 

“Connection? What…” Telepaths. Vulcans were touch telepaths. And Spock was doing a lot of touching, so it made sense that he was _feeling_ something, but it couldn’t have been anything pleasant. And given the events of the past few months, it couldn’t have been anything novel, either. After all, Spock knew exactly what anger felt like. “Let me go.” 

“Captain, I…” 

“Look, there’s something clearly wrong. If you let me go, we can figure out what it is and fix it.” Jim hoped he sounded calm and reasonable and not at all angry or tired. “We’ve had a long strange night. A very strange night. But we can talk things over and find out what’s going on. Logically.” 

“Captain…Jim…I cannot.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean? You can’t let me go? You can’t talk about this logically? Spock, you’ve got to give me _something_ to work with here. Anything.” 

“There’s something…it hurts.” 

“ _What_ hurts? Tell me, Spock. What’s wrong.” 

“There was a time in Vulcan’s history when all Vulcans were emotional…barbarians. We were out of control of ourselves. We were so…angry. And then…” 

“Surak. Right. He taught you a new way.” 

“How did you know that?” 

“I looked it up. What’s hurting you now, Spock? Is it something to do with that?” 

“Yes. I need…” Spock’s words broke off with a harsh breath, and he looked down. Jim couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t see what held his attention. His entire arm ached now from the pressure placed on his shoulder. The bruise would probably be spectacular. But all that pain was fairly distant. It existed, but it didn’t truly bother him. Too much of his attention was focused on Spock, and whatever the hell it was Spock wanted to tell him. 

“You need?” Jim prompted. 

“Help me.” 

“I am trying to help you! You have to tell me what you need!” 

Spock looked up again, and his eyes were shining like fever in the firelight. Jim’s stomach turned into a hot stone. He had the feeling that he was not going to like Spock’s answer. Not one little bit. 

“I need my mate. I need you.” 

“I have no fucking idea what that means,” Jim said slowly, though a part of him—a very small part of him—suspected the answer. When the older, nicer Spock had initiated the mind meld, Jim had received more than just a short history lesson and Spock’s devastation over the loss of his planet and all its inhabitants. There had been something bright and golden. Something that had pierced his mind for no more than an instant. It disappeared almost as soon as Jim felt it, but it had left something behind. A tiny golden thread that Jim easily understood. Love might have been an utter mystery to him, but _sex_ wasn’t. Sexual desire, lust, arousal, need—it was practically a second language to him. 

For a nanosecond, Spock had _wanted_ him. A thread of that desire had burrowed into Jim, flaring to life occasionally without any rhyme or reason. When it did, Jim had no choice but to ride it out, hoping that nobody would notice how wound up and on edge he was. And now, it was positively glowing inside of him, growing from a spark into flames, warming his blood. 

Spock lifted his free hand and placed his fingers at familiar pressure points on Jim’s face. 

“No. Don’t do this, Spock. Don’t…” He could feel Spock, pushing at his mind, seeking entrance. Jim remained resolute, throwing up every shield he could, resisting his first officer. “This is going to make things worse.” 

“Stop…fighting me.” 

“Spock. Spock, trust me. It’s not…going to help.” One of them needed to stay in control, and if Spock touched that glowing thread, everything would be lost. Jim didn’t know where that knowledge came from, but he knew it was true. He felt it in his bones, as sure as he knew his name. 

“I need you, Jim.” More pressure. More strength he couldn’t resist. They needed to be rational. Logical. They couldn’t give into this—whatever it was. They needed to be able to think, and if Spock did what he was trying to do, there would be no more conscious thoughts. Not for a very long time. Jim could sense that, why couldn’t the Vulcan? 

Or maybe he could. Maybe that was exactly what he wanted. 

The thought distracted Jim, and Spock took the opening without hesitation. He pressed into Jim’s mind, immediately finding the glowing spark that the other Spock had left there. Jim felt the moment that Spock’s mind touched it, and then everything flashed in searing, burning white.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_WARNING_** : This chapter contains quite a bit of Pon Farr related violence!

There is a moment at the beginning of any freefall when time comes to a stop and your brain takes the opportunity to process exactly what is happening. You can see the nothingness above you, the ground so far below you, and the ledge mocking you just out of reach. There’s enough time to ask _Oh my God, what have I done?_ There’s enough to be genuinely sorry. _What have I done? What have I done?_ There’s even enough time to change your mind, to stretch that final painful inch, until your fingernails catch some impossibly smooth surface, and your body slams against the stone cliff with enough force to knock out your breath. Every time Jim Kirk found himself in a freefall, he reached out automatically, clinging to whatever he could find, pulling himself back over the ledge through sheer force of will. _Not like this. Not today. Not like this._

Now he was desperate for something to cling to. He could smell the sweet smoke from the fire. It was real. It was the fire Spock built in a cave, and the cave was being used for shelter and protection from some sort of beast, and they were on a strange planet, and they needed to survive. The smoke reminded him of each of those things. It enveloped him. It suffocated him. Everything was too hot. Why was everything so hot? Where did this burning come from? His bones would turn to ash. There was no relief. Even if somehow managed to scramble out of the cave and dive into the water, there would be no relief. The water. It existed, too. It existed, and Jim couldn’t forget that. 

“Spock…” He didn’t think Spock could help him. Did he actually say the word? Spock was in his brain. He could feel the presence of the Vulcan, occupying space that he was never supposed to take. It hurt to have him there, but it felt good, too. Like…like…

Like being penetrated. 

_Yes._

The voice wasn’t his. And the word sounded more like a declaration than a simple statement of agreement. 

“No no no.” 

_Yes. Don’t fight me._

Those three words were like tripping a trigger. Jim exploded. He didn’t feel the pressure on his shoulder. He didn’t feel the strength of Spock’s body. He didn’t smell the smoke any more. All of his senses, every instinct, every ounce of energy focused on one thing. Fighting Spock. 

Somebody roared. It echoed and echoed. It might have been bouncing through his mind, or it might have been bouncing off the walls of the cave. It fueled the flames already racing through his blood like windswept wildfire. He pushed Spock away, using strength he didn’t even know he had, and yet feeling like he hadn’t even tapped everything inside of him. A part of him had thought that maybe once they broke physical contact the intrusion in his mind would disappear as well, but that didn’t happen. He still felt Spock inside of his head, still felt him touching that single thread, which wasn’t a thread at all anymore. In fact, it was his whole world. Everything was golden and glowing and vibrant and the color of Spock’s eyes in the dim lights. 

_You shouldn’t be fighting him. Don’t do this. Pull yourself together. Get yourself under control. You’re the Captain, damnit._

It was all true. It was also irrelevant. There was nothing more important in that moment than lashing out at Spock. His instincts were screaming at him to _fight, fight, fight, fight_. So he did. He slammed his fist into Spock’s face, shouting with the force of his violence. Spock spun away from him, but that wasn’t enough either. He swung again and again. His fist was small and compact. A hard, lethal weapon. The third time he hit Spock’s defenseless body, he thought maybe he might actually win this fight. 

Until Spock sent him flying across the cavern to the opposite wall with the a casual flick of his hand. 

Any other time, that might have been enough to make Jim reconsider his method of attack. Or even if attacking was a good idea at all. But now he was incapable of any sort of reconsideration. There was only combat. His body against Spock’s, his mind resisting Spock’s. And the winner would…what? What was he fighting for? He needed to fight, he didn’t doubt that. But what would he win? 

Jim jumped to his feet and sprang across the space, landing on top of Spock and sending him sprawling to the dirt below. As soon as he straddled the Vulcan, he understood what he was fighting for. His cock was hard, his balls pulled tight and throbbing, and sweat covered his skin. He was slick. So slick that Spock couldn’t even get a good hold on him as he struggled to free himself from Jim’s weight. 

They rolled across the narrow floor together, nearly landing in the fire. Jim felt the flames on the outside of his skin, felt the searing heat singe the hair on his arm, but barely noticed it. Both of them were throwing punches, liberally bruising ribs, faces, shoulders, and chests. At one point, blood, thick and dark, erupted in Jim’s mouth and coated the back of his throat. Instead of bringing him back to his senses, it triggered another flurry of violence. He didn’t want to taste his own blood. He wanted to taste Spock’s. He wouldn’t be happy until Spock was covered in it. And God, this felt good. Nothing had ever felt better. The pain crawled from the depths of his body, settled on the surface of his skin, became entirely inconsequential. 

Blood and sweat poured from him, mingling with the dirt that stuck to his skin each time Spock pinned him to the ground. He could feel the scrapes on his skin, but Spock’s was still flawless. Still protected by his uniform. Jim temporarily forgot about his desire to flatten Spock’s face and focused instead on ripping at his clothes, tearing and clawing and growling with frustration until the material finally gave way. As soon as it fell to the ground, Jim realized that Spock wasn’t uninjured. Each time his fist met with his flesh, a fresh bruise had blossomed. Green and vibrant and Jim liked the looks of it. He liked it _a lot_. 

Spock resisted with everything he had, but the next time he was trapped beneath Jim’s body, he was completely naked. His flesh was slick, too, but not with his own sweat—it was a combination of red and green blood, Jim’s sweat, and pre-come. They were both covered in it, and it made getting any sort of hold impossible. Their nails grappled for some sort of purchase, but neither one of them could hold on. 

Spock finally brought his legs up and flipped Jim over his head. Instead of descending on him, he jumped to his feet and moved to the other side of the cave, gasping for breath. Jim immediately jumped to his feet, too, and everything was so fucking hot. _Fever. You have a fever. You’re sick, for Christ’s sake!_ That voice belonged to Bones, but Bones wasn’t there, and his phantom, nagging voice wasn’t going to be enough to hold Jim back. He jumped forward, prepared to start the fight again, but Spock fended him off, sending him to his back. 

“Cease!” 

“No.” 

“Jim…it’s… _Plak Tow_.” 

Jim didn’t know what that meant, and he really didn’t care. He was already pushing himself to his feet again. His cock was so hard, he thought he was just going to burst. He still wore his shorts, and the material tented out in front of him. Not the most dignified way to fight, but did he have a choice in the matter? He needed to destroy. He needed to tear Spock apart. He needed to claim. He needed to win. He needed to roar and bash and bleed until he was literally spent. The hard-on was of no concern to him because that was how he felt all over. Like there was literally too much inside of him and he was going to break apart if he didn’t vent it. Violence seemed like a perfectly reasonable outlet. 

“Jim, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” 

“Sorry for what?” Why were they talking? How were they talking? Was Spock still in his brain? The question sent another black, hot wave of anger through him, and he lunged forward, intent to do whatever he had to. To win. To be the victor. To have the right to mate. 

_Wait. Where did that come from?_

“You’re sick, Jim.” 

“I feel fine,” Jim rasped. 

Spock caught his fist and moved quickly, spinning Jim around and holding his wrist against the small of his back. Jim still struggled, so Spock slammed him against the wall. “Don’t.” 

Jim heard him, but he didn’t care. He shot his elbow back, finding Spock’s ribs, and then jerked his head, hitting Spock squarely in the nose. Spock roared and tossed him again. This time, when Kirk hit the cavern wall, he thought he heard bones cracking. Like he had a few broken ribs. He didn’t feel pain, though. In fact, he didn’t feel anything except the unbelievable, intolerable ache between his legs. Had he ever hurt so much for anybody? He wanted to soothe it. He wanted to end it. He would literally do _anything_ if he could only make that pain go away. 

The fight began anew, as if they had never stopped. He sensed that he was losing, but he couldn’t stop himself. At one point, Spock hit him in the eye and then he had felt genuine, undeniable _pain_. It ricocheted through his skull, slicing through the fog and lust and anger and need and fever. For the first time since the battle began, he cried out, his hand automatically covering his eye, protecting it while he left the rest of his body open for another volley of attacks. 

Spock didn’t take advantage of the opportunity. His shoulders relaxed a very little bit, and the concern was obvious on his bruised and bleeding face. “Jim? You’re hurt.” 

The statement stunned Jim. Not because he hadn’t realized it, but because Spock sounded as though he was surprised. Like he hadn’t noticed the way he’d been pounding on him, throwing him, kicking him, slamming him against walls. Of course, he was hurt. What did that matter? It never mattered. All that mattered was _winning_. He needed to defeat Spock. He’d fight until he didn’t have any breath inside of him, and then he would fight some more. He’d fight until he couldn’t move. Spock would have to beat him down into a pulp to stop him. 

“Jim. Jim.” _JIM!_

Spock could shout all he wanted. That wouldn’t change anything. He still wanted to taste Spock’s blood, mingling with his own. 

_Cease. Stop. You are harming yourself._

“I won’t. I won’t let you take me. I won’t.” 

“The Fever is upon you. I did not intend that. If you don’t stop, you will die.” 

“Kill me then!” Kirk shouted, barely aware of the words at all. They were meaningless. All words were meaningless. What was Spock trying to tell him? Why was Spock speaking at all? He needed…God he needed…his breath was caught in his lungs. He needed relief. He was too hot. 

“I have no wish to kill you.” 

“You’re going to have to if you want to fuck me.” 

The words seemed to catch Spock by surprise. His head reeled back, as though the words were another tightly closed fist. Jim smiled, but the satisfaction at Spock’s reaction was fleeting at best. The pain in his groin was spreading to his lower stomach, to the base of his spine, even to his knees. A single breath of wind would probably be enough to make him come. He needed to come. His balls were so heavy, and his shorts were unbelievably tight. He could taste something in the back of his mouth and it wasn’t blood. His fingers trembled. His throat convulsed. He was going to scream. Or cry. Or puke. 

Desperate, unsure of what to do or what was happening to him, Jim lashed out again. Spock wasn’t expecting it, and though Jim didn’t have much strength inside of him, it was enough to send the Vulcan spinning toward the wall. Jim immediately followed with another punch, and then a high kick to the back. It was enough to momentarily stun Spock, and Jim pressed against him, his chest sliding against Spock’s back. 

His cock pressing against Spock’s ass. 

Jim froze. All he had to do was thrust forward, and the pain would be gone. It would be so easy. Just a push of his hips, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about Spock trying to take him. And he would be so hot. Spock’s skin was always much warmer than his. The heat of his ass would probably be overwhelming, and his channel would squeeze around him like a fist wrapped in velvet. 

_You can’t do that. Think, Jim! THINK!_

“But I need…” 

_Do it._

A voice that didn’t belong to him. The voice belonged to the intruder in his mind. Except, Spock would never tell him to do anything like that. He might have almost completely lost his mind, but there was still enough of him there to know that Spock wouldn’t let him…

“Do it, Jim.”

Now there was no mistaking just where the encouragement came from. Kirk didn’t question it. He didn’t stop to wonder _why_ he wanted Spock with everything inside of him. He didn’t stop to wonder _why_ Spock would encourage this. He didn’t stop to consider where this desire came from, or why he was shaking. He didn’t think about the golden light exploding behind his eyes. Because when you stripped all of that away, all that was left, all that mattered, was _need_. White-hot, electric, burning need. 

Kirk yanked down his shorts with one hand, still holding Spock with the other, and drove forward, burying himself in Spock’s channel in a single, hard stroke. At first, Spock’s body resisted him, his opening too tight, too small for the intrusion. Jim didn’t care. Nothing was going to stop him. Spock actually shouted at the hard thrust, but Jim didn’t care about that, either. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. His cock was absolutely covered in sweat and pre-come, and that created enough of a slick to ease his entrance. 

Spock’s heat was more intense than anything Jim had imagined. It was like a sun. Like a starburst. Like a supernova exploding around him. He kept one hand on Spock’s shoulder and gripped his hip with the other. There would be more bruises, and the thought only prompted Jim to hold him harder. He wanted his marks all over Spock. He wanted Spock to remember exactly who claimed his body. If he could leave some sort of permanent mark on the pale skin, he would. 

They both grunted as he eased back and slammed forward again. Kirk’s was satisfied, but Spock’s was something else. Kirk set a hard rhythm that was reminiscent of all the blows he had rained down on Spock’s body before. His body was a weapon and each thrust forward was an attack. The edge of the violence sliced through him like a blade, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t resist it. He couldn’t deny it. His blood felt like it was literally boiling beneath his skin, and his ears were humming. Soon, he couldn’t hear anything over that continuous buzz except for the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Again and again and again. 

At some point in his red haze, he felt his cock jerk and he erupted, filling Spock’s channel with hot come. But that wasn’t enough. It didn’t even occur to Jim to stop. He just kept thrusting forward, fucking Spock into the wall, his cock rock-hard. The fresh come did make it easier to enter Spock, and that only encouraged him to move faster, harder. With each thrust, he felt more of his wicked energy draining. The haze slowly started to dissipate from his mind. He felt an ache in his head and his back. It was uncomfortable, but not enough to distract him. Because he needed Spock. 

But more than that, Spock felt damned good. Perfect even. 

Kirk’s reputation was not undeserved. He had been with all sorts of sentient beings, and he had enjoyed every single one of his dalliances. But Spock wasn’t like any other being he had ever been with. It was the fit. Spock was a perfect fit. And no matter how much punishment Jim unleashed on him, Spock’s body could take it. Hell, Spock might even like it. He might even have craved it. Jim could almost believe it. That some part of Spock had been waiting for his captain to…

Jim’s rhythm faltered. He was the captain. He couldn’t do this. This wasn’t right…

_Don’t stop now._

That sounded like an order from Spock, but he couldn’t ignore it or argue with him. Not at that moment. Especially since Spock was clenching around him and oh God, was that Spock’s hand on his hip? Drawing him closer? Forcing him to keep up the rhythm? Maybe he _did_ secretly crave it. That thought slithered down his spine, making him sweat and shiver at the same time, and then his world shattered. It wasn’t just a sudden twitch of his cock and release of his fluid. Time seemed to stop. His eyes rolled back. His entire body vibrated. The various aches and pains that had been making themselves known faded away as endorphins flooded his body. It felt like a wave was crashing down around his head, and then he was being yanked backwards. He tightened his hold on Spock, his hips jerking randomly as the muscles in his body spasmed and cramped. Everything was tight. Everything hurt. Everything felt perfect. 

When it finally stopped, he collapsed. His legs gave out from beneath him and he unconscious by the time he hit the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

There was nothing but pain. Jim had nursed himself back to health after countless bar fights. The bloodier they got, the more he liked it. Bruises didn’t bother him. Broken bones would mend. Scars were completely inconsequential. The first time he got in a physical brawl, he had been twelve, and it had been difficult to tell what he liked more. When a fist slammed into his face, he felt like he was finally getting just what he deserved. When he fought back, he felt like he had some modicum of power. So he was accustomed to the morning after—which usually included the pain of a hangover—but this was unlike any “morning after” he had ever experienced. 

For starters, he couldn’t move. He wasn’t bound to the ground in anyway. He didn’t feel the unmistakable pressure of ropes or chains around his wrists, but he still couldn’t move. He managed to lift his forefinger, but his arms were completely unresponsive. And they _ached_. Like he had spent the entire day holding two hundred pounds directly over his head. His legs were no better. He managed to wiggle his toes, and he could bend his knees a little, but his tendons were tight and inflexible. Each breath hurt. 

_Bruised ribs_ a voice informed him dully. Just what he needed. 

His throat hurt and his tongue felt swollen. He couldn’t tell if the pain behind his eyes had to do with some sort of injury, dehydration, or both. It was hot enough in that cave that he had probably sweated out at least five pounds. His scalp itched and his lips were chapped. He needed a drink. Several drinks. He also needed a bath and some food. 

_Do you require nourishment?_ Spock’s question from the night before. About the only thing he remembered from the night before. He had been fine then. How had that question led to this? He felt like he had had sex with a grizzly bear. And then wrestled the grizzly bear and the grizzly bear won. 

“Spock?” 

Sex with a grizzly bear. The thought made him smile. 

“Spock?” 

Sex with a…it had been sex with Spock. And it really hadn’t felt very much like sex. 

“Oh…dear God. Spock?” 

He had fucked Spock. He knew that much was true. He couldn’t remember the details, but he remembered Spock trapped against the wall. He remembered Spock’s heat closing around him. He remembered wondering how much Spock’s body could take and not really caring about the answer one way or the other. 

His stomach churned and he forced himself to his side just before it convulsed, rejecting all of its contents. There wasn’t much there. Water, the remnants of breakfast from the day before, and bile. Breakfast. He had dined on the Enterprise, eating in the cafeteria with the rest of the crew, flirting a little bit with Uhura, even though it always annoyed her and Spock. That didn’t just feel like another lifetime, it felt completely unreal. His stomach clenched again and he groaned, the back of his throat burning with another dose of bile. 

_What have I done? What have I done?_

He curled into a fetal position, dragging his legs up to his chest despite the screaming protests from his muscles. Tears were already gathering at the corners of his eyes. He was not going to cry over this. He wasn’t. But he had…he had…

Jim couldn’t even think the words. They were too horrible. They were real. The memories now fluttering through his mind didn’t feel quite real. He could say they were nothing more than the ghosts of dreams. But if he said the actual _words_ , if he confessed the truth, if he confessed to being an animal…how could he have done that? How could this have happened? 

Had Spock left him? Made his escape in the dead of the night? That made sense. It didn’t make sense at all. Spock couldn’t survive on his own. Were they both going to be condemned to death? 

_Do you deserve any better?_

He didn’t. He didn’t deserve any better at all. If they were anywhere else, he would turn himself over to authorities, and be prepared to face any punishment they deemed fit. The death penalty had long been abolished, but at that point, Jim felt like it was perfectly fitting. He was the _captain_ , he was Spock’s superior officer, he was better than that. He was better than what he had been told all his life. He was worth something. And he had blithely tossed all that away because…Kirk frowned. 

Why had he done that? Why had he hurt Spock like that? He couldn’t remember. Did Spock know? That seemed like a moot question, since he wasn’t even entirely sure he would ever see Spock again. 

Jim had done some things in his life that he was not proud of. He had done things he’d never confess. His official record reflected some bad decisions and some dark times, but ultimately, it only indicated the things he had been caught for. Some decisions had gone without consequence. Some choices he would life with forever, and nobody had any idea of them. But this was, without a doubt, the worst, the lowest, the most despicable thing he had ever done. 

There had been a fire at some point, but it was completely dead now. Kirk stared at the dead coals and ash, wondering when the fire went out. Wondering how long he had been in the cool cavern, protected from the sun and the strange animals. Wondering where Spock was. Could he explain? No, he couldn’t. Could he apologize? How did one apologize for…for what he was guilty of? How could one ever even begin to apologize for that? 

He couldn’t. He’d try, but it would do no good. For once, he couldn’t charm or swindle his way out of a bad situation. He was completely guilty of a violation that he could never explain, never justify. 

Never take back. 

#

Spock was busy studying a handful of berries, attempting to ascertain whether or not they were edible for humans, when something tweaked the back of his mind. He straightened just as a wave of guilty despair washed over. It was as pure as any emotion could possibly be. It was like a sudden, unexpected cold wind on an otherwise hot Vulcan day. It was perhaps the worst emotion Spock had ever experienced, with the exception of his own deep grief for his mother. 

“Jim.” 

He dropped the red berries in the makeshift bag he had made that morning, and sprinted the direction of the cave. He had hoped to be back from his scavenging mission before the captain woke, but either he had miscalculated the time he was gone, or misjudged the amount of rest Jim would need. The latter was far more likely than the former, though since they had arrived on the strange planet, his timesense was completely disturbed. Or, as Kirk would say, all fucked up. 

Spock reached the cave within moments and quietly slipped through the small entrance. He took care to drop onto the ground soundlessly, in case Kirk was asleep and what had been broadcast to Spock was only the echo of a dream. The captain had moved since Spock rose that morning, curling in around himself like he expected some sort of attack. His sensitive nose picked up the bitter scent of recently regurgitated food, and Kirk’s back looked like it had literally been painted with a purple brush. He had already decided to turn himself into Starfleet once they returned. The sight of Jim’s bruised and nearly broken body only strengthened his resolve. 

“Captain?” 

His head jerked up and the blood drained from his face. His eyes were dark and bruised, his mouth cracked. Blood still clung to his skin. Spock had tried to wash him after he had passed out the night before, but the attempt had been hasty and poorly executed. He should have been more thorough in his attempt. 

“Spock? I thought you were gone?” 

“I was only searching for food, Captain. A mission that would have been far easier to accomplish if I had my tricorder.” 

“You’re here.” 

“Yes, and I have food. Are you…” He glanced over to the drying vomit. “Well enough to eat?” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Do you wish me to leave?” 

“No. No, I’m just…” He straightened his legs with a moan. Spock watched with apprehension as Kirk slowly—slowly—straightened into a seated position. “I’m just surprised. I thought you would be long gone.” 

“What would be the logic in my leaving, Captain?” Spock asked carefully. He had no doubt that if Kirk wanted him to leave, the other man would simply order him to go. Human couldn’t be maddeningly indirect at times, but Jim Kirk never wasted time by talking around his point. 

“You’re really asking that? After the way I…after what I _did_ to you last night?” 

“You did not behave inappropriately,” Spock responded. 

Kirk stared at him, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. “Are you serious? Are you saying that just because I’m…please tell me that you didn’t just say that because I’m your captain. Because that is absolutely no excuse.” 

“Not at all, Jim.” 

“There was _nothing_ appropriate about what I did. _Nothing_.” 

“Under other circumstances, I may agree with you. But what happened last night was not your fault.” 

“Whose fault was it?” 

“Mine.” 

“How…how does that even make sense?” 

“I shall explain later.” 

“I want the explanation now.” 

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement, but he had no intention of actually conceding. Not until Jim was properly bathed and fed. It would be easier for them both if most of the evidence of the night before had been washed away or hidden by clothes. It was not, of course, entirely logical to pretend something didn’t happen when it did, in fact, happen. But there were many things about their current situation that wasn’t entirely logical. 

“I understand, Captain. But I think it would be best if I explain everything after you’ve had the chance to bathe and consume breakfast.” 

“Spock…I can’t just accept that my own actions weren’t my fault. Not unless you tell me how that could possibly be the case.” 

“You were not in control of yourself.” 

“What? Was I drunk?” 

“No. I…” It would be a difficult thing to discuss at the best of times. But this was hardly the best of times, and Spock had no idea where he should even begin. For one thing, he did not have an explanation for his own poor behavior. For another, he could not justify why he insisted on initiating a mind meld that Jim had no wanted. But he could have had no way of knowing. How could he have known? 

“Spock? I think I remember…did we talk about Surak? And about how Vulcans behaved before him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Because I was behaving in a most illogical way. I was not myself, and I apologize, but I have no explanation for that. I knew there was something amiss, but I was incapable of correcting the problem. I was driven by…instincts not by logic.” 

“Driven by instinct to do what?” 

Spock took a deep breath. It would do no good to try to distract Jim from the conversation. “I initiated a mind meld with you that you did not want. I should not have done that. I am…I am sorry.” 

“But how did the mind meld make me…look, Spock, regardless of what you did, I still made a pretty big mistake.” 

Spock shook his head. “No, Captain, you misunderstand. When I forced you into the mind meld, I touched something that I had not expected to find there. I created a telepathic mating bond with you. The affects were immediate, and as you might remember, quite violent. You experienced _Plak Tow_. A blood fever, which is the result of the _Pon Farr_ that I unintentionally…imparted. The only cure was to…” 

“Mate?” 

“Yes. Or you would have died from the fever.” 

“So when I…you let me do that to save my life?” 

“Yes.”

“You should not have tried to mind meld with me.” 

“Yes, Captain, I know.” Spock lowered his head, momentarily overcome by the guilt he could not keep at bay. An apology would be insufficient, though Jim was absolutely entitled to one. He could try to explain, but there would not justification. He had violated his friend in a most unforgivable way. “I will accept any punishment that you deem appropriate.” 

Kirk looked around and sighed. “I don’t think it would do either one of us any good to start passing out punishments. Do you?” 

“No, sir, not at this juncture.” 

“Right. So what do you suggest we do at this juncture?” 

“As I’ve already suggested, bathing and eating. Also, I think that today should be spent resting.” 

“We don’t have time for that Spock. And it’s not necessary.” To demonstrate, he pushed himself to his feet. Except, it was a very slow process, and more than once, it looked like he was going to fall face first into the cold fire pit. 

“Sir, we do not have a medkit, and you have been…injured. It would be unwise to push yourself too hard. You will be putting yourself at risk for serious injury.” 

“I’m aware of the risk, Spock. But we’ve got to find a way to get off this planet, and that’s not going to happen if we just sit here in a cave.” 

The words were firm, like he was barking out orders on the Bridge. Unfortunately, his legs apparently didn’t get the message, because they crumpled beneath him. Spock moved quickly enough to catch him, but Kirk didn’t look like he appreciated the help. In fact, he looked more annoyed than ever. 

“Jim…can we discuss our plans for the day after I’ve made sure your injuries are not serious?” 

“What about your injuries?” 

“I am healthy.” 

“Really? I didn’t do any sort of damage last night?” 

“Nothing that will cause permanent harm.” 

“Spock…” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of here?” 

“I’ll help you.” 

He bent at the knee and linked his fingers together, forming a step with his palms. Jim looked at him with a small smile then shrugged and rested his foot on Spock’s fingers. He lifted Kirk easily, balancing him while he held the ledge and pulled himself out of the cave. He should have followed immediately, but he hesitated, taking the chance to study the cave. 

There was blood on the walls. Now that it had dried, the stains were almost impossible to tell apart. They weren’t red. They weren’t green. They were just dark on the light rock. He couldn’t tell what type of stone it was, but like everything else on the planet, he found it fascinating. He wished to spend time exploring the flora, the fauna, and the geology, but he didn’t have the time or the equipment for that. 

Even though the blood had dried, Spock could still tell who belonged to. The small smear approximately one-point-five meters above the ground belonged to him. The much larger spot a little bit above that belonged to Jim. Spock did not know what compelled him to step forward, but he couldn’t resist running his fingers over the stain. He had drawn blood. Repeatedly. And the evidence of his lack of self control literally painted the walls and even stained the light colored sand on the ground. 

“Spock?” 

“I’m on my way, Captain.” 

Kirk was smiling when Spock emerged from the cave, except it wasn’t quite right. It was more exhausted than amused. “This place doesn’t look so bad by the light of day.” 

Spock shook his head. “No, it is a rather pleasant location. Certainly we could have been stranded in a worse location.” 

“Except for the hideous animals, the disgusting pools of stagnant urine, and the near death experience, I’d say it’s practically a paradise.” 

“I have not noticed any other animals since I began searching for food this morning.” 

“Yeah, about that. How do you know that the berries you found are actually, you know, not going to kill us?” 

“I do not know for sure, Captain, but I have calculated the risks to be negligible. However, I am more than happy to eat a few first if it would make you feel better.” 

“I’d rather not watch you die.” 

“I would not eat anything if I was not certain that death was improbable.” 

“I want a guarantee that death is impossible. That’s all.” 

Spock nodded. “I’m afraid I simply cannot offer that guarantee. Not without the proper tools.” 

They walked as they spoke, and Spock kept a careful eye on how well Kirk was moving. Which is to say, not well at all. Spock wondered if Kirk hadn’t suffered some other injury the night before while running from the animal. He had been more than a little exhausted when Spock finally found him, and he had had a difficult time keeping his feet. Spock had never seen his captain like that before, and he strongly suspected that there was more to the situation than met the eye. He also strongly suspected that Kirk wouldn’t let Spock close enough to conduct an examination. Not for awhile, at least. 

“Holy shit, this is cold. I didn’t notice last night.” 

“Would you like any assistance?” 

“No, I’m good.” He waded in up his knees and then lowered himself to the muddy bottom, sitting up to his chest in the cold water. “I think I’m just going to relax for a bit. Do you want to join me?” 

“Spock…about last night…” 

“I have nothing left to say on the matter.” 

Kirk took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I can accept that. For now.” 

Spock nodded, happy to be given that much. They would absolutely need to discuss it again, but he hoped that if he downplayed it, Jim would relax. Despite all of his reassurances, Spock could still feel the guilt in the back of his mind. Guilt that did not belong to him. 

#

Q refused to meet Spock’s eyes, which made the Vulcan think that despite his omnipotence and arrogance, he still had a sense of shame. Kirk had once had a puppy on the ship, and every time that dog got into trouble, he had the same sort of expression. Despite the fact that puppies were not sentient beings, Kirk had always insisted that the little dog—Cocoa—knew exactly when he had done wrong. That was how Q looked now. 

“You could have killed them. They could have torn each other apart.” 

“But they didn’t.” 

“Was that part of your plan?” 

“No! I like to win, but I already told you once, I’m no cheater. Look, your younger self is back to normal. Did you see him? Being all logical and calm. And Kirk is going to be fine.” 

“He may survive physically, but I know him. He will carry the guilt of his actions for a long time.” 

“Guilt? But he didn’t do anything wrong! Spock even explained it to him.” 

“The least you could do is provide a medkit.” 

“That _is_ cheating.” 

“The playing field is not fair right now. Both of them have severe physical injuries that will stop them from successfully completing their mission. Injuries that would not have existed but for your interference. I’m not asking you to take back what you have done, but you should give them both a fighting chance.” 

Q’s lips thinned. Trying to make him behave in any sort of reasonable or orderly manner was a little bit like, to use one of Doctor McCoy’s favorite expressions, herding cats. Spock had never endeavored to herd cats, but Kirk had once had one of those as well, and Spock did not doubt that dealing with an entire herd of them would be quite exhausting indeed. 

“Fine. I will provide them with a medkit. Anything else while I’m at it? Should I give them back their weapons? Perhaps you would like them to have a personal guide?” 

“A medkit will suffice.” 

“I will admit,” Q said grudgingly, “I am impressed they didn’t actually kill each other.” 

Privately, so was Spock. He had understood what his younger self had triggered when he initiated the mind meld, but he had not expected his counterpart to figure it out in his rather impaired state. Kirk probably did not realize what Spock had done when he had submitted, but the act had been one of sacrifice. Instead of giving into the powerful primal demands urging him to simply take what he wanted, take what he considered _his_ , he had found it within himself to do what was best for his captain and his friend. 

Despite his concern for their welfare and fear of their lives, Spock’s faith in them had been fortified. As long as they were willing to stand by each other, none of Q’s games would defeat them.


	10. Chapter 10

Jim wished the water was warm. He wished he had something to eat besides suspicious berries. He wished the sun wasn’t so bright, because he had a headache, and he wished the muscles in his thighs didn’t feel like they had completely seized. Spock was standing behind him on the bank. Not moving. Not speaking. Just standing there, watching him like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jim barely noticed it anymore. He was always doing that, and usually, it was nice. Comforting. When they were on the Bridge, and he could sense Spock had turned in his chair to study him, he didn’t mind being at the center of the Vulcan’s attention. Because if something went bad—and something always could—he wanted Spock to be right there, watching his back, prepared to do whatever it took to complete the mission and keep the ship safe. 

Spock could have killed him the night before and that was a plain fact. 

Unlike the night before, Kirk didn’t just sit in the water and hope that would be enough. He picked up a handful of sand and began scrubbing it over his arms and chest, working the blood and dirt away. It was a little bit painful against the bruises, but the pain kept him focused on the task at hand. Getting the fuck off the planet and back to what passed for normal in their lives. There were no signs of sentient life forms in that area, but there could be elsewhere. Maybe on the other side of the planet. And if they could find any intelligent beings at all, they might be able to jury-rig a communicator to reach the Enterprise. Spock would be able to figure something out. He had no doubt of that. 

A part of Kirk knew how hopeless it all sounded. _If_ there was intelligent life there. _If_ they could find it without getting killed. _If_ they had the sort of technology that would lend itself to fashioning a communicator, crude as it may be. If, if, if. So many questions, no guarantees, and his back was still tight and itchy with dry sweat and blood. 

“Spock?” 

“Yes, Captain?” So polite. So formal. So Spock. He had been trying to make Spock understand that his name was _Jim_ , and while he really loved being the captain, he didn’t need to be reminded of his rank and position every time Spock addressed him. The word acted like an invisible wall between them, a constant reminder to Jim that they had a working relationship, not a friendship. It had irritated him before, but maybe now that was for the best. The more distance they kept between them, the better it would be. 

“Is my back still dirty?” 

A pause before “Yes, Captain.” 

“Can you help me out with that?” 

“Of course.” 

Jim expected to hear Spock splash into the water right away, but when several seconds passed without his arrival, he glanced over his shoulder to see what the problem was. Spock was standing just a few feet away, carefully folding his pants and setting them outside of a potential splash zone. It made perfect sense for Spock to want to keep his clothes as dry and clean as possible, since he didn’t have any other clothes. Still, the small act—so polite, so formal, so Spock—made Jim smile. 

“I could return the favor, if you want.” 

“That will not be necessary.” 

“Really? Let me see?” 

“I am well.” 

“Let me see anyway.” 

Spock pulled his tunic over his head, and then they were both standing naked in the water. Jim didn’t realize his mistake until it was too late to do anything about it. _Okay, look, just because last night was weird doesn’t mean you have to make a big deal out of it now. You’ve been naked around each other before._

Sure they have. Including the previous night, just before Jim…

There was a thin, green streak of blood down the back of Spock’s thigh. 

“Oh my God.” 

“What is it?” Spock twisted his head around to look down the back of his body. “Does that disturb you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I…I made you bleed, Spock. That’s pretty high on the list of things you shouldn’t do to your first officer.” 

“But it was not your fault and I do not hold any ill will against you.” 

“That doesn’t change the way I feel.” 

“Yes. I do not know how to change the way you feel, either. It is illogical the way humans hold onto unnecessary guilt.” 

“Yeah, it can be. Do you mind if I…clean you?” 

“Would it make you…feel better?” 

“It would.” 

“Then I do not mind.” 

“Even if it is illogical to indulge in pointless emotional acts?” 

“Sometimes, it is only logical to indulge in such acts if they can assuage guilt and bring about a sense of peace. As a human, you are not inclined to reason your way out of the guilt. This is the next best solution.” 

“I know you don’t like to be touched. It won’t bug you if I start, you know, rubbing my hands all over you?” 

“Bug me, Captain?” 

“You know, bother or annoy you. Like I usually do.” 

“You do not annoy me.” 

“Really, Spock? Pull the other one, it has bells on it.” 

“I do not know what that means.” 

“It means I think you’re lying to me.” 

“I’m a Vulcan. I do not lie.” 

Jim bent and scooped up a handful of sand. Spock didn’t even twitch when he began rubbing it over the back of his leg. “So you’re telling me I’ve never annoyed you?” 

“Certainly you have annoyed me in the past. But you do not regularly annoy me and you haven’t annoyed me recently.” 

“That’s…actually good to hear,” Jim muttered under his breath. The abrasive sand rubbed away the offending blood as he spoke, much to Jim’s relief. Spock shivered once, but Jim barely noticed. Not until the Vulcan’s entire frame was shaking. “This water is too cold for you, isn’t it?” 

“I will survive.” 

“I’m sorry, I just really needed to get you cleaned up.” 

“I understand, Captain.” 

“Do you?” He asked, splashing water of Spock’s thighs and back, rinsing away the sand and most of the evidence from the night before. Seeing how easily the blood washed away made him feel a little bit better, but the bruises were still there. He remembered _wanting_ the bruises. He remembered how hard the thought made him, and when he saw the first ones forming, it had only fueled his hunger. But it wasn’t because he wanted to hurt Spock. He didn’t remember wanting to cause Spock real _pain_. He had only wanted to mark the other man. A physical, undeniable mark. To claim him. 

“Yes, Jim, I do.” 

Kirk straightened slowly. The soft confession hit him in the gut like a rapid one-two punch. He was caught up in his own guilt and regret, but he hadn’t spared too much time thinking about how all of this affected Spock. After all, from his perspective, he carried the bulk of the responsibility and of the blame. Strangely, the realization just made Jim feel worse. 

“We’re all clean now.” 

“Yes. But your bruises…” 

“They’re fine,” Jim said quickly, cutting him off. “I’m going to be a little sore for a few days, but it’s really nothing I can’t handle. I’ve been in worse fights.” 

“Really?”

No, not really. But unlike Vulcans, humans could lie, and Jim intended to keep this lie going. “Yes.” 

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe you.” 

Jim lifted his brow. “Are you calling me, your superior officer, a liar?” 

“No. But I think that you might be exaggerating.” 

Jim exhaled. His lips actually hurt when he breathed, even the whisper of air enough to aggravate his bruised mouth. “I might be exaggerating a little bit.” 

“I still think it would be best for us to rest here and give your body a chance to heal itself.” 

“Spock, I don’t like sitting around. There’s nothing here to help us, but if we get moving, we might be able to find _something_.” 

“I believe the animal we met last night is nocturnal, and I do not know how long day lasts here. It could be similar to the lengths of Terran days, or it could be much shorter or much longer. I would prefer at least to ascertain how many hours of daylight we have before we begin traveling.” 

Jim frowned. He had the feeling he had just been out maneuvered by his first officer, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He didn’t want to remain there, stuck in the cave, but just because he wanted to get moving didn’t mean he wasn’t fully aware that he was injured. At least, injured enough that he couldn’t run or fight at one-hundred-percent. Also, a good captain knew when it was best to be prudent. Of course, nobody had ever accused Jim of being prudent. He could live up to his reputation of being a hot-headed-look-before-you-leap-know-it-all. Or he could trust his first officer—his science officer—and take the proper amount of time to evaluate the situation and figure out what to do. 

He really didn’t want to meet that beast again in the dark. Especially unarmed. 

“You win. For now.” 

“It was not a contest.” 

Jim wasn’t too sure about that. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you turn into an icicle.” He held up his hand. “And don’t say it. It was just a figure of speech.” 

“I thought as much.” 

They waded out of the water and dressed in silence. Jim didn’t remember when Spock grabbed his clothes, but they were there on the bank, warm from the sun, and not as rank as he remembered. He didn’t look at Spock as he dressed, and for once, he didn’t feel the other man’s gaze weighing on his body. He didn’t know if that meant things were back to normal, or if it meant things would never, ever be back to normal, so he should just put that thought right out of his head. 

“What about you? Will resting a day help you?”

“It will. I will not be able to completely heal myself, but I can through meditation.” 

“How?” 

“Vulcans have greater control over their bodily functions than humans do.” 

Jim was sure that Spock had no idea what he had just said, so he bit back his smile and automatic quip. The part of him that wasn’t interested in the joke immediately began mulling the implications. If he had greater control, did that mean that…

_Really? You’re really going to go_ there _after what happened last night?_

No, he wasn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a little bit curious. Would Spock even answer him if he asked? Probably not. He’d find a polite, yet unambiguous, way to tell Kirk to mind his own fucking business. 

Almost as soon as they returned to the cave, Spock made a move to leave again. Jim knew he should let him go. He could guess where Spock was going, but he still couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What are you doing?” 

“If we’re going to stay here another night, I think it would be best to have more firewood and food.” 

Once again, Jim couldn’t fault his logic. On the other hand, he did not want to sit in a hole in the ground with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. In fact, it pretty much sounded like his version of Hell. He wasn’t convinced that having Spock there would help, but he still didn’t want to be alone. 

“We have some time. Stay with me.” 

“What do you wish to do?” 

“I don’t know, Spock.” Jim lowered himself to the ground with a soft sigh. 

“It would be best if you slept.” 

“I’m not tired.” 

“It will be better for your body…” 

“Spock, no matter how much I sleep, the bruises aren’t just going to magically disappear.” 

Spock blinked slowly, and Jim felt _another_ stab of guilt. He didn’t have to be an asshole about it. Spock had been going out of his way to be nice. In fact, this had been the longest either one of them had gone without a real fight. Clearly, that was due to Spock’s effort and not his own. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have done nothing wrong.” 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“You were only speaking the truth. You are correct. Sleeping will not accelerate the rate of your healing.” 

“I’ll take a nap if you want me to.” 

Spock’s lips actually twitched like he was going to smile. Jim caught his breath, waiting for it, but the moment passed and Spock’s mouth remained a thin line. “I doubt that it is that easy.” 

“You could talk me to sleep. Not that I find you boring.” 

“Of course not.” 

“I just meant that you know a lot of…boring things.” Jim frowned. “That didn’t come out right, either. No offense.” 

“I didn’t take any.” 

“You can go ahead and leave if you want. You probably should before I insult you again.” 

Instead of pulling himself through the opening, Spock gracefully folded his legs beneath him, sitting less than a meter from Jim. He was happy that Spock chose to stay, but he was at a loss for words. There was one thing they could talk about. But neither one of them wanted to, so where did that leave them? 

“There’s a mountain ridge,” Spock said, as if the words had some significance. 

“What?” 

“I noticed it this morning while I was foraging. I estimate it to be at a distance of ten terran miles. If we can reach higher ground, we can survey the area and have a better understanding of the planet. From there, we can decide what the next logical move is.” 

Jim nodded slowly. “Yeah, it’s always good to get to higher ground. We could do that in less than a day.” 

“It may take longer in our present conditions.” 

“No, we’re just going to have to push ourselves. I want to get off this rock, Spock.” 

“I understand. That is my desire, as well.” 

“So that’s what we’re going to do. I don’t care what it takes.” 

“Captain, the chances of successfully finding a way off the planet are…” 

“Don’t, Spock. I know that you take a certain sort of comfort in numbers and knowing the odds, but I don’t. The odds are against me.” Jim picked up a rock and tossed it at the makeshift fire pit. “That’s all I need to know.”


	11. Chapter 11

_I need you, Jim._

Green. But not green like grass. Not green like trees. Not green like freshly tended gardens. Green like blood, staining his knuckles. It stained his mouth. There was rain, and it was green. It dropped into the dry sand, sending up puffs of dust, and made a hollow sound. When he looked down, he saw that he had bathed in it. Or somebody had painted him in the green blood. But there wasn’t just green. There was purple, too. Purple on his thighs, on his stomach, on his chest, on his hands. He couldn’t see the color of his own skin. 

Do it. 

Flashes of pale skin. Not just pale. White. Like egg shells in the shadows. Kirk couldn’t stand the sight of the pale skin, and he reached for it until it was smeared in green. Until he saw the imprints of his own fingers on the skin. Ten perfect marks. 

I need you. 

Heat. Not heat like a summer day. Not something pleasant. Not something you would find in your freedom. It was an unnatural sort of heat and it was burning him alive. It was consuming his blood like fuel. As soon as the heat touched him, flames erupted. Like fireworks. Like bombs. Green blood continued to rain down on him, but it did nothing to smother the flames. In fact, it was only more fuel. He threw his arms up and his head back, begging for relief, but the more he begged, the less relief he found. He moaned, pled. He fell to his knees and everything cracked, and the pale skin wasn’t pale anymore and he was going to be consumed consumed he was going to be gone he was going to be lost he was going to burn into ash ash ash

Need you. 

Ash couldn’t survive it’d be blown away it’d scatter it’d be forgotten it would mingle with the green and make a new substance and it would be spread across cave walls walls walls tight and shuddering around him holding the heat the source of the heat holding him holding 

Need. 

Holding on to a mate he needed his mate his mate was lost and there was still burning still consuming until there was nothing nothing. Nothing. He was nothing… 

“Jim!” 

He opened his mouth but not his eyes. Air. He needed air. He was dying. 

“Wake up. Wake up, it’s a dream.” 

He couldn’t breathe. He heard Spock’s voice, and that was good. It meant he wasn’t alone but he couldn’t fucking _breathe_. Why couldn’t he breathe? 

“Jim.” That sharp note of command left him reeling. Who was Spock to talk to him that way? And why did he keep doing it? Like he had any right to? That was going to stop right then…

Jim’s eyes flew open and his lungs finally cleared. It felt like a band around his chest had been loosened enough to suck in desperately needed oxygen. He didn’t miss his chance. He gasped for breath, trying to save up enough to tell Spock what was really on his mind. For starters, Spock wasn’t the one in command, and that needed to be settled right away. 

Before he could find the energy to form the words, he noticed two things. First, Spock’s eyes were soft. Liquid, even. Like all of the shields that the Vulcan had erected had been dashed with a single blow, and there was nothing left to guard the deepest part of him. Second, there were flames in his eyes. A fire. It was already dark and cold enough for a fire. How long had he been out? 

“Spock?” 

“Captain.” 

“What…what happened?” 

“I administered a hypo.” 

“What are you talking about? We’re still in the cave, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hypospray?” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“I found a medikit along with a tricorder.” 

“You…you found…I think I’m still dreaming.” 

“No, Sir, you are awake.” 

“Then what are you talking about?” 

“I do not know where it came from, but while I was out searching for food, I found it near where we landed.” 

Spock’s explanation only raised more questions than it answered, but Jim decided to press for more information. It didn’t matter, he didn’t care that much, and Spock didn’t have any more information to offer him anyway. “Did you find anything while you were out searching?” 

“Yes. I have prepared something for you.” 

Prepared? That sounded like it would be something better than a handful of questionable berries shoved into his mouth. He tried to sit up and realized Spock’s arm was around his shoulder. He also realized he didn’t need Spock’s support. His ribs didn’t hurt as much. His muscles weren’t spasming in protest. Things seemed to be looking up. 

Spock handed him something that looked pretty similar to the lettuce wraps he had seen Spock eating in the mess. There was all sorts of things tucked into the large green leaf, but nothing resembling those red berries. He looked up, arching his brow questioningly. 

“The fruit I found before was not suitable.” 

“Is that a fact?” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

“I’m relieved I didn’t try any earlier.” 

“Yes, that is quite fortunate.” 

Jim smiled to let Spock know he was only teasing, but Spock look chagrined. Like he couldn’t believe he had made a mistake, and such a serious one at that. Like it was an endless disappointment that Spock didn’t know everything there was to know in the universe. 

Without looking away from Spock’s gaze, Jim lifted the wrap up to his mouth and took a big bite. He had expected something earthly and gritty and maybe bitter. But this tasted like it had actually been _seasoned_. The replicators in the mess couldn’t get make something taste this…nuanced. Without hesitation, he took another bite, and another. His stomach growled, demanding more, but his hand was empty. 

“More?” Jim asked hopefully. 

Spock silently handed him another. Jim scarfed it down as quickly as the first one, then asked for a third, and a fourth. He didn’t know how many Spock had made, but he had the feeling he could eat those wraps for the rest of the night. 

“God, these are brilliant, Spock. How did you do this?” 

“It was easy once I had my tricorder.” 

“Okay, gathering up the ingredients? I believe that was easier. But actually making it all _edible_? That must have taken some work.”

Spock lifted his shoulder in a small, self-conscious shrug. “I merely endeavored to prepare something pleasing for your palate.” 

Spock was uncomfortable. Jim could tell because he was using about twice as many words as necessary. “Well, your endeavors were successful. Have you had any?” 

“Yes, I ate while I was preparing yours.” 

“Ahh, I see. Hey, Spock, I have a question.” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“What did you mean last night when you said you needed me?” 

Spock’s eye twitched. It was just a little twitch. And it might have been a trick of the light, but Jim didn’t think so. “I spoke out of turn. That is all.” 

“Fine, but that is not an answer to my question. What did you mean when you said you needed me?” Jim tilted his head, considering his first officer for a long moment. “You called me your mate. Not a mate. You didn’t say you wanted _to_ mate. You called me _your_ mate.” 

“Captain…” 

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t tell me you can’t explain. That’s what you said when you initiated the mind meld. That’s why you did that, and I need to know what the hell you meant.” 

“Has all of your memory returned?” Spock asked softly. 

“Maybe not all of it. But enough.” 

“This is a very difficult topic, Jim. I can offer you assurances that it’ll never happen again.” 

“Can you? Do you even know why it happened to begin with?” 

Spock looked away, his profile outlined against the darkness. “No.” 

“Then you can’t assure me it’ll never happen again, can you?” 

“No. I…suppose I cannot.” 

“So I guess it’s best if I understand what actually happened last night.” 

Jim didn’t know what he expected Spock to say. Maybe something convoluted, with too many words, that ultimately didn’t answer his question at all. Spock had the tendency to do that, and it was a habit that Jim hadn’t quite learned to tolerate. A part of him didn’t think Spock would answer him at all. He clearly didn’t want to, and there was absolutely nothing stopping him from walking out of the cave. Or beating the shit out of Jim until he stopped asking intrusive questions. 

What he didn’t expect were the words that actually came out of his mouth. “I felt empty without you.” 

Jim didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he had heard Spock correctly. How could he have? How could Spock have said what Jim thought he said? That wasn’t possible. Even if Spock had delivered the sentiment in a perfectly even, perfectly reasonable tone of voice. He might as well have been commenting on the weather, or their plans for the next day. _The temperature is very mild. I felt empty without you. We should reach the top of the mountain by midday tomorrow._

“Did you hear me, Captain?” 

“Yeah. I heard you.” 

Spock looked at him with the barest hint of impatience. Which was more than enough impatience from the Vulcan, especially since Jim was desperately trying to gather his thoughts. 

“You felt empty…without me. But I was standing right there.” 

Something flickered across Spock’s face. Something like disappointment. As though Spock couldn’t believe somebody would say something quite so stupid. Even James T. Kirk should know better than to say something so stupid. 

“Captain…” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Don’t say that I’m your mate and you felt empty without me and then call me Captain.” 

“My apologies. I didn’t mean…” 

“I know what you meant, Spock.” Once again, Jim’s words were much harsher than he intended. He took a deep breath and swallowed down the exasperation he had no real right to feel. “But I don’t really understand what the hell is going on here.” 

“Understandable…Jim. This is an unusual situation for humans. And for myself. I have never experienced anything like this.” 

“Never?” 

“No.” 

“Not with Lieutenant Uhura?” Jim instantly regretted his question. “I’m sorry, that isn’t my business.” 

“No.” He unclenched his hands and ran his palms along his legs. “It would be easier to show you than try to explain it.” 

“You’re talking about another mind meld,” Jim said flatly. 

“Yes.” 

“No, I don’t want to do that.” 

“I did not have any control last night,” Spock said, his voice oddly tight. “I understand why you wouldn’t…” 

“No, you don’t!” Jim exploded, and he couldn’t stay seated any longer. He jumped to his feet, his muscles tense with nervous energy. He felt hot again. Why did Spock always insist on that stupid fire? _Because he’s cold at night_ a small voice instantly provided. _You know that. He’s cold._ “What I did last night…what I did to you…I can’t think of anything that horrifies me more, to be honest.” 

“I’m sorry, Jim. I cannot help you if I don’t know the source of your fear.” 

“The source of my…I just told you!” 

Spock regarded him calmly. “Is it because you do not find me a suitable mate?” 

For the second time in five minutes, Spock stunned him into silence. Suitable mate? To be honest, Jim had never given Spock’s suitability as a mate a second thought. He often longed for the sort of relationship Ambassador Spock had promised—both implicitly and explicitly. He often wondered why he couldn’t make heads nor tails of his first officer. Of course, he had noticed Spock’s many, many attractive attributes. More than once, he had heard crewmen muttering about the injustice of somebody like Spock landing somebody like Uhura. They couldn’t understand what she could possibly see in the Vulcan who never smiled, never shared a joke, never expressed any sort of fondness for her in public, and, to make matters worse, seemed to enjoy frightening and bullying some of the younger ensigns into behaving. He had been a hardass in his role of instructor at the Academy, and had put the fear of God into more than one young cadet. Throw his green blood and pointed ears on top of that, and everything about his relationship with the beautiful communications officer became a mystery. 

Except, Jim wasn’t the least bit confused. He was more confused by _their_ confusion than anything else. Spock and Uhura made a very striking pair. Very striking. Besides that, Spock was scary smart, brave, strong, often funny, loyal, and, in a word, great. He was great. He wasn’t perfect, but nobody was, and Jim was the last person to start throwing stones. The thought that somebody as…as _good_ as Spock would want him…well that thought had never occurred to him. That was why Spock’s question had caught him flat-footed. 

“Spock, that’s not what this is about.” 

“You’re evading my question.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you! You mind meld with me and I become a crazy person. I completely lose my mind and…” Jim paused to rub his temples. “And you could have killed me last night.”

“I would never…” 

“You could have.” 

“Yes. I am stronger than you, which increases the possibility of…defeating you.” 

“Defeating me. Yeah, right. You could have snapped me in two.” 

“I fail to see your point.” 

Jim leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what my point is. I feel like I’m caught in some strange nightmare. You know, we’re all caught up in this like it’s all that matters, but Ambassador Spock is still missing. There was an intruder on the ship just before we were sent down here. There are larger problems we should be focusing on.” 

“I don’t disagree.” 

“I know. You didn’t want me to bring it up at all. How do you feel now? I mean…do you still feel empty?” 

Spock considered the question for several moments before answering. “Yes. It is not quite the same as it was last night. Last night I was driven by a need to have. To possess. I wanted to be sure that you would never be taken from me. But tonight, there is only a sort of resignation, and with it, the understanding that you are not meant to be possessed by me. I am…” His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form an alien word. “Forgive me, this is difficult.” 

“I don’t mind waiting.” 

“I am…disappointed. No, that is inaccurate.” He ran his hand through his hair, a surprisingly agitated gesture. “I am sad.” 

“You’re…you’re…” Now Jim knew he had to be dreaming. Except his dreams were never quite this insane. “You’re sad over me?” 

“Yes. I will never have this sort of connection with another person. You are my bond mate. That is why I did not, as you say, break you in two last night. That is why I submitted to your needs.” 

“But Spock…I don’t mean to be dense. Despite what most people think, I’m actually a pretty smart guy. I don’t know what it means to be a bond mate. I don’t understand any of this.” 

“If you’ll permit, I will show you. As I said before, you have my word that I will not allow a repeat of last night.” 

“Okay.” 

Spock’s eyebrow shot up, and Jim felt a thrill of satisfaction. Finally, he was the one shocking Spock—which was as it should be. 

“Okay?”

Jim shrugged. “I trust you, Spock. It’s myself that I don’t trust.” 

Spock stood and slowly closed the space between them. Jim watched him without moving, the stone wall cold against his back. He appreciated the chill. He appreciated it even more when Spock touched him with warm fingers and new fire swept through him.


	12. Chapter 12

Jim’s very first experience with a mind meld had been far from ideal and not pleasant at all. He hadn’t known what to expect, so he couldn’t do anything to prepare himself for it, but that was far, far from the worst part. Spock’s grief had simply been unbearable. It seemed to be as big as the destroyed planet itself. It had only enveloped his mind for a few seconds, but those few seconds were like a lifetime. He hadn’t believed anything could be worse than that. Until the second mind meld that turned him into an animal. The meld itself had been extremely short lived because of his reaction, but Jim didn’t think he would ever forget the intrusion, the actual sense of being violated. He didn’t want to go through that again. And he simply couldn’t believe that a melding could ever be a positive experience. Not when there were always so many negative feelings, so much pain, no much confusion and anger, so close to the surface. 

But his third attempt at melding was something else entirely. It was…gentle. Like being cradled. Darkness wrapped around him, but it wasn’t the frightening kind. Instead of being an absence of light, it was simply an absence of distractions. Like Spock was wrapping them both in a thick cocoon, and as long as they were there, nothing could happen to them. It was warm, but not the searing heat that had pushed Jim into unthinkable violence. It didn’t consume him like a fire burning too hot and too fast. He was falling without moving, and when he felt Spock at the edge of his mind, there was no accompanying fear. 

_Come in._

It seemed like a dumb thing to say—think—but it was apparently what Spock had been waiting for. Instead of skimming over the surface, he sank into _walked into entered penetrated_ Jim’s mind. Jim could no longer tell where his thoughts began and Spock’s ended. There was no separation between them. They were one being, and that sense of warmth, of peace, spread. It was everywhere. It was the Universe. 

There was still something glowing in the back of his mind. Something dangerously hot. It pulsed like a raw, exposed nerve, and each time it did, it chased the safe shadows, scattering them, spreading them thin. Spock wasn’t there. That was the one part of Jim’s mind, of his person, of his being _self heart soul_ that remained wholly his own. Jim barely noticed that. He was more interested in what Spock was exploring. What he was touching and discovering. Despite the situation, he was being nonintrusive, only accessing the feelings and thoughts that Jim was willing to offer. 

_How are you feeling, Captain?_

When he calls me Captain, he’s saying _my_ Captain. He’s saying _mine._ Jim didn’t know where the thought came from, but he could feel Spock’s acceptance. _Yes, that’s right._

_What is a bond mate, Spock?_

_This. Do you feel it?_

He’s seven and crying over the remains of his dog. She had been in a fight, and blood has congealed around her snout and one eye is simply missing. His mother told him not to touch the dog, but he can’t help it. He barely notices the blood. It covers him. It covers him and he’s thirteen and he knows he can’t go home until he’s figured out what happened to him. He needs a change of clothes. He needs to shower and scrub it all away, though he knows he can’t. Can’t tell anybody what happened. Can’t tell anybody what he’s done. He can’t go home and he’s sixteen and there’s nothing left for him in his mother’s house so he’s got his bike and a change of clothes. His nose is bleeding and it’s gliding down the back of his throat. He knows he’s not going to go back and he’s lost his brother and he can’t say goodbye to his mom so he just drives and drives until all he wants to do is scream into the wind. So he does and the wind doesn’t answer. 

The memories hit him all at once, and then they were gone. No, not gone. They were still there, and still vivid, but they just didn’t matter. Not as much. Not compared to what Spock was offering him. They were sun-bleached. Like the antique books that had been left in the sun for too long. The pages could still be read, but the type was faded, the spine brittle. The memories were meant to be put aside in an airtight cupboard, where they would remain, safe from further harm, but out of reach. Forgotten. Because of Spock. 

The darkness returned. Jim welcomed it the way he welcomed sleep after a long day. Spock was still in his mind, but now it didn’t feel like an intrusion. An image of a plug and a socket, but Jim dismissed that. It wasn’t right. An image of a knee joint, two parts working together. That was better. Still not quite right, but it worked. In the darkness, he realized he was hard. Each time Spock caressed his mind, he felt it in his blood. He felt it like a hand moving over his body. He was falling. He was falling in the darkness, falling against Spock, falling into Spock. Joining with _penetrating you’re inside of him again inside_ him. 

Jim felt it as soon as Spock broke the meld, and the whimper of protest came from his throat but it didn’t seem like a sound he had ever made before. It took a great deal of energy, but he forced himself to open his eyes and stare into Spock’s dark depths. They were familiar now. That was what he had been inside of. Spock didn’t look away. He wouldn’t, Jim understood. He’d have to look away first. Or push Spock aside. 

“How did you know?” Jim murmured. 

“I felt it.” 

“That’s hardly logical, Spock.” 

“Do you believe in fate?” 

“How can I believe in fate when I know for a fact our lives have completely changed? Not everybody has the…honor of knowing just how differently their lives could have been.” 

“And yet, of all the possibilities, of all the roads we could have taken, we are together, tonight, in this cave.” 

“Do you believe in fate, then?” 

“I believe there must be a sort of destiny.” 

“What about the concept of free will?” 

Spock arched his brow. “I have never seen any indication that free will exists. It was not free will that led to your father’s untimely death. Nero was merely responding to a situation outside of his control. He could not stop the destruction of his planet, nor being sucked through the black hole.” 

“He could have chosen not to attack. Are you proposing that we’re helpless to do anything except drift on the currents of time and destiny?” 

“Not at all, Captain. I do not believe destiny will ever bend you to her will.” 

“But you’re saying we’re destiny.” 

“You are my destiny; however, I make no claims about being yours. I was on the proper course until…” 

“I understand,” Jim said quickly. 

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to show you. I could not have explained.” 

“Spock…” Jim couldn’t explain, either. Maybe he didn’t need to. He wasn’t the type to overthink everything, or be immobilized with uncertainty. He left the overthinking to Spock, and was quite happy to do. Spock, with his computer-fast brain. Spock, who spent his entire life voraciously seeking new information and absorbing it. Spock, with his shields and his defenses. Did he really not understand the humans that he now lived among? Or did he use his supposed ignorance to keep all of his peers at a respectable arm’s lengths? If you never got close to anybody, you could never be betrayed. A person couldn’t tear you apart with the information they had so carefully gathered if you kept everybody away. Safely ensconced behind his fortifications, he didn’t risk being abandoned. Left behind. Alone once again. 

Spock thought Jim was going to leave him. Maybe not physically, but in every way that counted, Spock thought Jim was already gone. Had anybody ever been afraid of _him_ leaving? Had anybody ever _wanted_ him with unselfish clarity? Jim Kirk needed Spock. He couldn’t explain that, but he didn’t doubt it. So maybe that was destiny. 

Spock continued to regard him, waiting for his answer. Jim didn’t have the words, so he cupped Spock by the back of the neck and brought their mouths together. 

He had hoped the kiss would convey everything that he didn’t know how to say. It wouldn’t be the first time he had tried to kiss his way out of an awkward situation. It was, however, the first time it didn’t work. Spock tensed, his mouth remaining closed despite Jim’s best efforts to make him respond. But it wasn’t like kissing a post. Jim finally straightened, and didn’t try to hide his frustration. 

“I know you know how to kiss, Spock. I’ve seen you do it.” Probably more times than Spock knew about, but Jim decided that was neither here nor there. 

“I do not understand why you are kissing me.” 

“Because I…” _Because I was done talking_ wouldn’t be a very satisfying answer for the Vulcan. _Because I didn’t know what to say_ would likewise be unsatisfactory. “Can you do the mind meld again?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m not any better at explaining than you are.” 

Spock nodded and put his hand up to Jim’s face. Jim focused on leaving all of his shields down. If Spock wanted to waltz into his mind and look around, poke at sore spots, and sort through his past, then he was welcome to do that. Jim suspected the only reason he felt comfortable making that decision was because he knew Spock would never do any of those things. 

The meld didn’t last long. It didn’t need to. Everything Spock needed to know was right there at the surface. He gasped softly, and Jim realized he had managed to surprise the Vulcan. Any other time, Jim might have made a joke about it. 

_It is humorous to you that you have surprised me?_

_Oh. Only because you are usually so unflappable, Spock._

_I do not feel very unflappable now._

_Yeah, I know what you mean. Kiss me?_

Spock broke the mental condition, but his fingers didn’t leave Jim’s face. He traced the ridges of Jim’s cheeks, the line of his nose, the top of each eyebrow. His fingers were dry and smooth and tender. They were nothing more than whispers against his skin. Jim remained utterly still, confused at first but willing to let Spock do whatever he wanted. But as Spock continued, Jim relaxed, becoming nothing more than putty beneath each thoughtful caress. Of course, Spock knew the location of each pressure point, of each sensitive nerve. He was fully versed in human physiology—which made him a formidable and deadly opponent. It also made it possible to turn a simple swipe of his thumb the most erotic experience of Jim Kirk’s life. One single brush across his cheek, and he was ready to drop to his knees and offer Spock everything he had. 

Jim discovered a special sensitivity in his right eyelid, and at the corner of his eye. When Spock pressed his index finger against Jim’s temple, his eyes rolled back in his skull. His earlobe was similarly receptive, but Spock wasn’t so gentle there. He pinched down at the thickest point, and Jim’s knees literally buckled. He only held him for a second, but it was enough. It was more than enough. Spock’s brows met in a V above his nose as he continued his exploration, a look of complete concentration on his face. That normally wasn’t the type of expression Jim wanted to see on his lover’s face, but in this instance, he really didn’t mind. How could he when Spock only touched him with two fingers and it felt like his spine was melting down the length of his body? 

Spock seemed to be making some sort of effort to avoid his mouth. Either he was saving it for last, or he was trying to demonstrate some sort of point. Like, Jim didn’t need to rely on his mouth when it came to kissing. It was a good lesson. Jim couldn’t deny that, but it wasn’t necessarily a lesson he wanted to learn. He craved pressure against his lips. Texture against his tongue. Skin to taste. The vibrations of a silent moan. The only thing he didn’t miss was the sense of being utterly connected to his partner, and that was only because Spock held his gaze with unwavering intensity. Even so, when Spock finally reached Jim’s mouth, he naturally parted his lips, his tongue darting out to find the digit outlining his bottom lip. 

Jim didn’t quite know how Spock would react, but he was encouraged by the sudden, sharp intake of breath. The sound went directly to his groin, making everything tight. Jim felt more than a little heady, and very grateful for the solid wall of stone against his back. The rough rock seemed to cling to his shirt, gripping him so he didn’t fall. Jim watched Spock through his lashes, looking up as he lowered his head to close his lips around the tip of his finger, sucking on the sensitive flesh. He couldn’t have been touching more than a few centimeters of skin, but Spock reacted immediately. He tensed, and his free hand slapped against the rock beside Jim’s head, as if he needed to brace himself from the unexpected impact. 

Jim felt an enormous surge of power. Of course, he had the power of command over Spock, and the Vulcan would always happily serve the title, even if he didn’t always want to serve the man. But this was different. This wasn’t about duty or obligation. It was just the two of them and their shared weakness for each other. And this was absolutely a weakness. A distraction. There were about a dozen other things they could have been occupying themselves with-- _should_ have been occupying themselves with. Any other time, with anybody else, Jim wouldn’t have had a difficult time remembering that. And he was certain that Spock had never forgotten or ignored duty in his life. But just because Jim recognized the situation for what it was didn’t mean he had any control over it. They were each other’s weakness—there was nothing to be done for that but accept it. 

Jim did. With gusto. He sucked a little harder, testing Spock, searching for the point that was just on the other side of _too much_. Spock swayed toward him, pressing their groins together until Jim felt the bulge of Spock’s arousal against his own. Without thinking, Jim rotated his hips, grinding into Spock’s body. Just enough to increase the pressure between them. Much to Jim’s surprise and delight, Spock mimicked him, moving his hips in the same direction, at the same speed. A bright jolt of pleasure shot up his spine, and his body moved of its own accord, seeking more. 

Spock kept his hand braced above Jim’s head, and Jim didn’t have any intention of letting go of his other one, but Spock didn’t need his fingers to touch his captain. The Vulcan used his hips and his legs, his chest and his mouth. Jim had never felt anybody move like that in his life. He had felt other bodies writhing against his as they pulled at clothes and exchanged hungry kisses—including Spock the night before when everything was a bloody haze. But Spock simply didn’t move without a sense of deliberateness; however, Spock’s grace was deceptive. He wasn’t moving that way because he knew exactly where to touch, or how much pressure to use, to drive Jim crazy. He moved like that precisely because he didn’t know what to do. He was uncertain, confused. Jim didn’t understand why, but they were connected in a way they hadn’t been before. He could almost sense every thought that fluttered through Spock’s organized mind. 

He pulled Spock’s finger deeper into his mouth, twining his tongue around it, using his teeth and his lips and even the side of his cheeks to elicit moans and pull out every single reaction he could find. It didn’t take him long to learn that Spock was amazingly sensitive everywhere. Each swirl on the pad of his finger, each knuckle, even the closely trimmed, smooth arc of his nail. No matter what he tried, Spock jerked and twisted in response. Which only increased the unbelievable pressure against Jim’s cock. 

A part of him recognized that he needed to get his clothes off. It would feel better if they were skin to skin, touching at every inch. But who was going to be the first to step away to make that happen? Certainly not Jim. He was completely trapped. Spock didn’t weigh much more than he did, but there was still his superior strength to consider. Spock would have to make the first move, and you didn’t have to be connected to the Vulcan’s brain to know it wouldn’t even occur to him to do that. He was far too caught up in what Jim was doing to him—what they were doing to each other. 

Jim gripped Spock’s wrist, guiding another finger to his mouth. Spock whimpered and dropped his head to rest his forehead on Jim’s shoulder, like he didn’t have enough strength to support his own weight. He almost told Spock to straighten again—he missed the weight of the Vulcan’s gaze—but then he felt something soft and warm and wet against his neck. That sense of melting returned. Like he was made of wax. Once again, Spock’s knowledge of human physiology was put to good use. Jim’s neck had never been particularly sensitive before, but now every brush of contact was a new delight. 

Spock wasn’t shy about using his teeth. He bit down hard enough to make stars erupt behind Jim’s eyes, then soothed it with careful laps of his tongue. The tip worked over each indentation, alternately teasing and comforting, until Jim completely forgot that Spock had ever caused any pain at all. Then he would find a new place to bite, and everything inside of Kirk would surge. Once he responded with a small bite of his own, catching the pads of Spock’s fingers between his front teeth. Spock growled. This time, the sound didn’t scare him. Instead, it wrapped around him, reverberating through him. It was a warning and a promise of all that Spock had locked inside of him. All Jim had to do was push just a little bit harder…

Any other time, he would have done just that. Ignorant of what lurked beyond the edge, he would have gone flying into the darkness with nothing but the faith he had in himself. This time, he held himself back, licking the affected skin until the last echoes of the warning sound faded away. Spock rewarded him by sliding his free hand down Jim’s body until he reached the hard line of his cock. Jim caught his breath, every fiber of his body straining towards the new contact. As soon as Spock touched him, that would be over. He’d explode, shooting his come all over himself and Spock’s long, thin fingers. He knew that as sure as he knew his name, but he was powerless to stop Spock. Especially when he slipped his fingers beneath Jim’s waistband and gently scratched his nails across his tender skin. 

Jim’s eyes rolled back and he thrust his hips forward. Spock moved his hips, too, his mouth still hot against Jim’s neck. They found a natural rhythm as Spock began to stroke him with easy pumps of his wrist. Jim had the vague memory of white heat and strong muscles and trembling flesh and endless pleasure from the night before. He knew what it felt like to have Spock trapped against the wall, all thin angles and deceptive muscles. He knew what it was like to burn from the inside out until the whole world was sparks and smoke and smoldering ash. But nothing he experienced the night before could touch that moment. Everywhere they touched felt like a gift. He was grateful for Spock’s lips on the hollow of his throat, and Spock’s fingers resting against his tongue, Spock’s hips grinding against him, and Spock’s palm sliding along his thick shaft. 

Spock pulled his fingers from Jim’s mouth and pressed the damp tips against his cheeks again. Jim barely had a chance to understand what was happening before he felt Spock inside of him again, and this time, he welcomed that sense of being filled. He expected Spock to speak, but there was silence. He wasn’t there to communicate, he was looking for something. When Jim sensed Spock was reaching for the golden spark, still glowing in the back of his mind, he didn’t flinch away. Spock knew what he was doing. Spock must have known. Jim trusted in that.

A nanosecond of pressure, the briefest breath, the smallest moment exploded into a cascade of bliss. It rolled through him like sheets of rain. He vibrated against Spock, jerking and writhing. He lost all control of his limbs. Even lost the ability to see. The world was awash in black, and he kept jerking, hot strings of come shooting from him. The fingers disappeared from his face and Spock wrapped his arm around Jim’s waist, holding him close as they dropped to the ground together. 

For the second time that evening, Jim sought out Spock’s mouth. This time when he found it, Spock didn’t pull away from him. He opened to the kiss with complete eagerness, his tongue sliding against Jim’s. Spock held him close, his arm like a steel band around Jim’s frame. Even though Spock’s fingers were covered in Jim’s come, he was still hard. He still ached. Jim had no doubt that as long as Spock touched him, he would ache. 

“Spock…” He broke away from the kiss but only for a second before he was drawn back to Spock’s mouth. It took several attempts before he managed to murmur, “What do you want me to do?” 

“I wish to feel you inside of me again.” 

“Really? After last night?” 

“Why do you persist in the belief that I did not enjoy last night?” 

“Because I…how could you have?” 

“We do not have to. I only indicated a desire for intercourse because you asked.” 

“Oh, I want to. I do. I was just…concerned.” 

“If you are still concerned, perhaps you would like me to be in control?” 

“In control how?” 

Spock answered by pushing Jim down until he was stretched out on the ground, loose dirt shifting beneath him. Spock quickly unbuttoned Jim’s pants and yanked them down to his feet, then stood and did the same with his own clothes. This time, he didn’t take the time to carefully fold and tuck them away. And his fingers—his long, perfect, sensitive fingers—were shaking. He caught a glimpse of white fluid still clinging to Spock’s skin at the same moment the Vulcan did. Everything from Jim’s throat to his stomach tightened as Spock slowly brought his palm up to his mouth and licked it clean. 

“God…” 

Spock arched his brow questioningly. Jim shook his head. He didn’t have the energy to explain. Or the words. Clearly, Spock was far more sensual than Jim had ever imagined, but he didn’t think the Vulcan would understand just what that small gesture had done to him. He couldn’t even swallow for the tightness in his throat. When Spock saw that no explanation would be forthcoming, he inclined his head and moved to straddle Jim’s hips. 

“Is this satisfactory, Captain?” 

“Oh, fuck yes.” 

“Good. If you will give me one moment.” 

“Take as much time as you need,” Jim managed. 

He couldn’t look away as Spock prepared himself. He wanted to lend a hand, but Spock seemed to have things well under control. Had he done this before? That seemed pretty much impossible. Spock obviously wasn’t completely innocent, but Jim very much doubted that Spock would ever allow another man to fuck him. Hadn’t he said as much? He had submitted to Kirk’s needs to save him. 

“Spock? Are you sure?” 

“I assure you that I am.” 

“I know but…” 

“Jim…please. I need this.” 

Jim didn’t exactly know what that meant, but he was done arguing. Perhaps Spock really did _need_ it, as opposed to just _want_ it, and Kirk was making things unnecessarily difficult. He’d remind himself to ask later. Now he could only watch, amazed, as Spock angled Jim’s cock towards his opening and bore down. 

The heat was exactly how Jim remembered, and the pressure intense. He wanted to jerk his hips up and slam himself home, but Spock needed to keep control. No, he needed to be sure Spock had control. He wanted to watch the interplay of light and shadow on Spock’s face, wanted to see what Spock looked like when he abandoned himself to pleasure. Hell, he wanted to see if Spock was even _capable_ of that. 

He had expected Spock to set a slow rhythm, but once Jim was fully sheathed, Spock moved like it never occurred to him to take it slow. Like he was the one taking Jim, claiming his body. Assuaging his…what had Spock called it? The plak tow? All Jim had to do was focus on breathing, and God, even that seemed like it was just too much to deal with. His lungs seized, and every handful of seconds, he forced himself to exhale and then suck the air back in. 

Spock fell forward, pressing his chest to Jim’s, his mouth so close that Jim could feel each sharp gasp of breath. He thought Spock would kiss him again, and a part of him was grateful for that. They could share the oxygen. Then the cave would stop spinning, and his chest wouldn’t burn so much, and the ground wouldn’t buckle and dip beneath him. But Spock didn’t claim his mouth—he merely brushed his lips across Jim’s. Jim moaned in disappointment—or maybe it was desperation. 

Spock responded by pressing his fingers to Kirk’s face. 

The meld was immediate and like an electric shock slamming through Jim’s body. His spine arched and he opened his mouth in a silent scream. It was like Spock had completed a circuit between them and now everything was flowing and everything was fine and everything was glowing golden light. The air, the walls, the roof, the ground all throbbed in time with Jim’s heart, until it felt like he was literally standing inside of his own flesh. 

_This is better…this is better…this is so much better…Spock…Spock…this is better…_

_Better than what?_

_Last night. Anything. Everything._

_Ah, yes. I agree._

_Good. Good. God…Spock…_

There were no more words, despite the ease of thought. There were only emotions passing freely between them. Jim’s fluctuating wildly, every single one of them overwhelming and powerful. Spock’s far more subdued and constant, but no less overwhelming for that. The contrasts pulled at each other until there were no more sharp peaks or steep drops, only an even, sustained flow of passion, flow of pleasure. 

After everything finally exploded, Spock collapsed on him. Jim held him with heavy, boneless arms. He even resisted sleep until he knew that his first officer had dropped off, exhausted by the drain of physical and mental energies. His first officer. His. _Mine._


	13. Chapter 13

Uhura had no intention of leaving the Bridge, but when Sulu turned control over to beta shift, he insisted that everybody get at least six hours of rest. She would have ignored him and risked him writing her up, but McCoy pulled rank and insisted that the entire shift take their designated break. It killed her to be away from her console, but if something happened—if anything changed—the whole ship would be alerted and she knew she could be back to the Bridge in a minute flat. 

Instead of returning to her quarters as ordered, she waited until the corridor cleared before slipping to Spock’s room. She knew the lock code, though she had never used it before now. He had been direct when he gave it to her, explaining that she might have need for it in case of an emergency and that he trusted her judgment when it came to what constituted an emergency. But his door had almost always been open to her, so was never an issue. Until now. And Uhura was pretty sure this counted as an emergency. 

She typed in the eight digit code from memory, glanced over her shoulder to make sure the way was clear, then slipped through the door. Despite her heavy heart, she couldn’t help her smile. There was absolutely no deviation between his quarters on the ship and the room he had lived in while teaching at the Academy. He hung a dark red curtain in the sleeping area and various axes over that. Spock was a pacifist, but you wouldn’t know it from his personal effects. There were a few other mementos from Vulcan—now all the more precious to him—and one old-fashioned photograph of his mother. It had been taken when she was a young woman, before she met the Vulcan who would be her husband, and her eyes shown with youthful vibrancy. She was laughing at the camera, her hands on her hips, her hair pulled back from her beautiful face. Uhura ran her fingers over the picture frame before dropping her hand back to her side. 

Security had already done a thorough sweep of the room. And Kirk’s. Nothing had been found. No hints. No clues. Nothing they could even hang a bit of hope on. Uhura didn’t consider herself a pessimist or an optimist—she was simply a realist. She didn’t bother worrying about things and events she couldn’t change, and instead focused on the best way to respond to those things. She couldn’t will Spock back to the Enterprise, and so she concentrated on what she _could_ do. But despite all her training, despite all her skills, she knew she wasn’t accomplishing a single damned thing. And that might have been the worst part of all. 

Uhura sat on the edge of Spock’s bed and idly reached for his pillow. She clutched it to her chest, hugging it and feeling like a complete fool for giving into such a childish desire. That sense didn’t leave her when she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, seeking the comfort of his scent. Would anybody say anything if she decided to sleep in there? She doubted anybody on the Bridge would care if she instructed them to send any notifications to Spock’s quarters, and Spock himself would forgive her for the impulse. 

“I thought I saw you come in here.” 

Her eyes flew open and she quickly tossed the pillow away. “Dr. McCoy. You startled me.” 

He grimaced. “Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. I just…I didn’t think anybody saw me.” 

“I don’t think anybody else did. I just happened to be coming around the corner when you stepped inside.” He leaned one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. Despite the casualness of the gesture, he was still tense. She didn’t blame him. 

“I thought it might…make me feel better. Spock would tell me that isn’t logical.” 

“No, but it’s human. Spock can you forgive you for that, can’t he?” 

“He usually does. You wanted to speak to me?” 

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. Especially since I thought you were going to fight to stay on the Bridge.” 

“I don’t know. I feel like…never mind. It’s stupid.” 

“I’m sure it’s anything but stupid. But if it makes you feel better, anything you tell me will be held in the strictest of confidences.” 

“Because you’re my medical officer?” 

“Because I’m your friend.” 

Uhura offered a small smile. “I feel like I would be okay if it was just one of them. If it were just Spock, I know that Jim wouldn’t stop until we found him again. And if it were just Captain Kirk, then Spock would leave no stone unturned. But with both of them gone…it’s hard to be…hopeful.” 

“That’s funny. I had precisely the opposite thought.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. The way I see it, their chances of surviving have doubled if they’re together. Spock can be a bit of a bastard…” He paused and grimaced again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant. Sometimes he’s not the easiest person to deal with.” 

“Well, but I still shouldn’t have spoken about him like that.” 

Uhura waved her had dismissively. “I’m more interested in hearing what you have to say.” 

“It’s only that despite my differences with Spock, I know he’ll always have Jim’s back. They’re a good team.” 

“But that’s only if they’re actually together. They could be anywhere.” 

“As long as they’re both alive, you can count on the fact that they’re fighting to get back to the Enterprise.” 

“As long as they’re alive,” Uhura repeated softly. 

“My bedside manner is pretty atrocious today, isn’t it? I’m not usually so…” 

“Blunt? Sometimes I think you and Spock should be better friends.” 

“I can tell you right now that that’s never going to happen. Spock thinks I’m an irrational, illogical, emotional, backwoods hick.” 

The corner of Uhura’s mouth lifted. She didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help herself. “He doesn’t think you’re a backwoods hick.” 

“He might not use those words, but trust me, that’s what he means.” McCoy pulled himself straighter and lowered his voice to a passable impression of the Vulcan. “Dr. McCoy, I must insist that you do not use your primitive tools on me, and keep your bones and rattles to yourself.” 

Uhura’s small smile turned into a small laugh. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s pretty accurate.” 

“I actually don’t think he’s so bad.” He pointed his finger at her. “And if you ever dare tell him that, I’ll call you a liar.” 

“I won’t tell,” Uhura promised solemnly. 

“Good. I knew I could count on you. Have you had anything to eat since all of this started?” 

“No, but I’m fine.” 

“When was the last time you had a meal?” 

“Breakfast yesterday,” she admitted under her breath. 

“No, that’s not going to do. Right now, my job is to keep everybody at their best. That includes you, and that means making sure that everybody has the proper nutrition and rest.” 

“I’m not hungry, Leonard.” 

“Neither am, I, but we’re going to eat anyway.” 

“Are you going to force me to eat?” 

“If I have to, but I don’t think either one of us wants it to come down to that.” 

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

McCoy smiled at her—his charming, aw-shucks smile. “No, ma’am.” 

Uhura pushed herself to her feet. “Then I guess I have no choice.” 

McCoy offered his arm to her, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it. Walking arm-in-arm to the mess with the Chief Medical Officer wasn’t necessarily the most appropriate action, given the situation, but she appreciated the contact. She appreciated knowing that she wasn’t alone—especially since McCoy might have been the only other person on the ship who really understood what she was going through. Jim was his best friend, and the two of them behaved like an old married couple. He was hiding his fear under concern for the rest of the crew, but she could still sense it. Maybe he even needed her more than she needed him. 

“Does Sarek have anything?” Uhura asked. 

“Not that I know of. He’s trying to sense the ambassador, but…” 

“What do you think? Do you think Ambassador Spock is okay?” 

“Honestly? No. His hormone levels had spiked to such an extreme degree that I was pumping him full of everything I could think of just to try to and take the pressure off his system. I doubt he would survive long without that care.” 

“What’s causing it? Do you know?” 

“No. Whatever it is, Sarek is pretty tightlipped. Every time I ask, he tells me it’s none of my concern. Like I’m not the one tasked with keeping the ambassador alive until we reach New Vulcan. Have you contacted Star Fleet?” 

“I can’t reach them.” Uhura sighed. “No matter what I try, I can’t get through. Like something is blocking our signal, but there’s no signs of interference. Or maybe…” 

“Maybe what?” 

“Maybe we’re out of Star Fleet’s range. If I send a message through subspace…” 

“It could be years before anybody picks up on it.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Has Sulu given any sign of turning command over to Scotty?” 

“No. Why? Do you think he should?” 

McCoy shook his head. “No. He’s been doing a good job, and I’ve been monitoring all his life signs. Blood pressure and heart rate has been in the acceptable range, so I know the stress isn’t getting to him.” 

“Who has it been getting to?” 

He gave her a sidelong look. “You might be surprised by the answer to that question. Well, you would be, if I could answer it.” 

“Oh, right. I forgot.” 

McCoy paused outside the mess. “After we eat, I’ll notify communications to forward any messages for you to Spock’s quarters.” 

She blinked her eyes, feeling the slightest sting behind the lids. Like she had an eyelash caught in her eye. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. I just figured that was the best way you to make sure you get some rest.” 

Uhura didn’t think anything would guarantee that, except the return of Spock and Kirk. She never would have thought that she’d have any special fondness for Jim Kirk, but now she couldn’t imagine anybody else being in charge of the Enterprise. The ship needed her Captain back, and Uhura needed Spock back. 

#

Dr. McCoy had ordered Sulu to return to his quarters, but he went to Observation Deck four instead. He would have rather stayed on the Bridge, but he had been running on adrenaline, and once that tank ran dry, he had crashed. He could almost tell the exact moment he lost what remained of his physical and mental reserves. The world had dimmed, and Chekov’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance. He had to ask the ensign to repeat himself not once, not twice, but three times. It had been embarrassing to say the least, but nobody on the Bridge had said anything about it. Until McCoy told him he needed to get some sleep. 

He collapsed in the nearest chair and rested his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his palms. He could have ceded command to Scotty, and nobody would have said a word. Nobody would have blinked. But the very last thing Captain Kirk had said when he left the Bridge was _Sulu, you have the conn._ He had tossed the words over his shoulder casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, and normally it wasn’t. But this time, it was. And Sulu wasn’t going to shirk from his responsibilities, even if it had been nearly twenty-four hours since Kirk and Spock disappeared from the Enterprise and he felt every single second of those twenty-four hours weighing on him. 

“Hikaru?” 

Sulu didn’t look up. “What is it, Pavel?” 

“Why are you here instead of in your quarters?” 

The question from McCoy would have been an implicit command, but from Chekov, it was merely an expression of curiosity with an edge of concern. “I just…wanted a chance to think.” 

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” 

“No. You can stay, if you want to risk it. You have the same orders I do.” 

“I’ll risk it.” He sat in the chair beside Sulu, his hands folded in his lap. Sulu looked up from the corner of his eye and saw the younger man’s face was pulled into a tight frown. Between the stress and the exhaustion, he looked far older than his seventeen years. “You are doing an excellent job.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Captain Kirk would be proud. He _will_ be proud.” 

“Do you really think we’ll find him?” 

“Of course.” 

“You sound so certain.” 

“I am.” 

“How can you be?” 

“Because you’re searching for them.” 

Sulu was aware of the small crush Chekov seemed to have on him. He had ignored it because of Pavel’s age, as well as the fact that having a relationship with another person on the Bridge seemed to be a recipe for disaster. He was more than a little shocked that Spock and Lieutenant Uhura had continued their relationship once Spock had accepted the position of first officer. Had either given any thought to what would happen if things didn’t work out between them? Sulu couldn’t help but consider that possibility, and so he kept his distance from Pavel. But at that moment, distance was the last thing he wanted. 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t know if…” 

“You will find them?” Chekov shook his head and said with finality, “You will.” 

“The Universe is a pretty big place, and they could be anywhere out there.”

“Don’t think of it that way. You are too pessimistic.” 

“It’s a little hard not to be, given the situation.” 

“You are doing a good job,” Chekov repeated, as though it were as simple as that. “One day you will have your own ship.” 

“I don’t want my own ship. I’d be happy serving on the Enterprise for the rest of my career. But…if they ever do promote me to my own ship, I’d like you to be my First.” 

It was such a small thing to say, but it had the desired effect. Chekov beamed at him with all the pleasure in his slight body, and the wrinkles that he had acquired in the past twenty-fours disappeared. He looked like the eager, brilliant, occasionally funny kid that Sulu was becoming accustomed to. In fact, he even resented it a little bit when the duty rosters changed and Chekov was rotated off alpha shift. 

“I would be honored to be your first officer.” 

“You should go turn in, Pavel.” 

“Have you had anything to eat? Dr. McCoy said that we should eat if we haven’t.” 

“That’s easy for Dr. McCoy to say. My stomach is tied up in too many knots. I can’t even imagine eating anything right now.” 

“But for you to be at your best, you need to eat. Dr. McCoy is right about that.” 

He might have been right, but that didn’t change the fact that his stomach was churning and he even had a little bit of heart burn. The thought of adding food to the mix only made his stomach churn more. The last thing he wanted was to puke all over the place. That wouldn’t help the situation. 

“I just can’t.” 

“Why don’t you eat some soup or crackers? It might help settle your stomach. That’s what my mother always used to feed me.” 

Sulu lifted his head to study Chekov’s open face. He looked back without guile. Sulu realized that eating may or may not be of any help to him, but it would definitely be of some help to the young navigator. Chekov no doubt felt as helpless as the rest of them, but at least if he was taking care of Sulu, making sure he had food and rest, then he was doing _something_. Sulu understood that—the need to keep moving, keep working. The need to believe that he could actually accomplish something. 

Sulu stood. “Soup sounds good.” 

Chekov immediately bounced to his feet, as though he still had untapped reserves of energy. The smile on Chekov’s face told Sulu that he had made the right choice, but the temporary warmth that caused couldn’t do anything to chase away the chill of discouragement. Because the Universe _was_ a big place, and just because Sulu was ready, willing, and able to search each corner and investigate every planet didn’t mean he could search fast enough. 

The com whistled just as Sulu reached the door. “Bridge to Sulu.” 

His stomach clenched. He had the feeling, though he couldn’t explain why, that this wasn’t a routine check-in. “Sulu here.” 

“Sir, our sensors have picked up more information on the ship.” 

“Report.”

“It’s a Constitution class Starship. It’s…sir, it’s the Enterprise.” 

#  
“Captain, I’ve picked up a transmission from the other ship. It sounds like a distress call.” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

Everybody on the Bridge stilled. Chekov tried to keep his attention on the sensors, but he looked up to, studying Sulu, waiting to see what he would do with the new information. At first, there was nothing except static. Then they began to pick out words. _Warp core breach. Evacuate. Four minutes and thirty-three seconds until final destruction._

“Sir, sensors are indicating debris from a Klingon vessel in the area,” Chekov announced. “They must have been hit before returning fire.” 

“Are there any more Klingons in the area?” 

“Negative. The sensors do not pick up any more ships in the immediate vicinity. The Enterprise…the other ship…is in orbit around an unknown planet.” 

“Uhura, respond to the ship and offer them aid.” Sulu flicked a switch on his console. “Scotty?” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

“Begin preparing for a major evacuation. Coordinate with the other ship to get as many people onto the ship as possible.” 

“Aye, sir. I’m already on my way to the evacuation pad.” 

“Chekov, begin scanning the planet for lifesigns.” 

“Sir?” 

“The Klingons…” Sulu paused and took a deep breath. Chekov knew what he was going to say, and he wanted to tell the acting captain that it wasn’t necessary. They _all_ knew what he was going to say. “The Klingons might have been responsible for taking Captain Kirk and Commander Spock. Since they are in orbit over this planet, it’s possible they transported them down.” 

“Aye, Captain.” Possible, Chekov agreed, but not probable. Why would the Klingons go to the trouble to sabotage the Enterprise and kidnap the captain and his first mate only to drop them off on an abandoned planet? But then, nothing about the current situation made sense. “Sir, what if this is a trap?” 

“Four minutes until the other ship’s warp core explodes. They’re evacuating to the…disc,” Uhura announced. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sulu said. 

“He’s right, you know,” McCoy said from behind the Captain’s chair. “This could be a trap. The Klingons themselves could have set it.” 

“But it might not be,” Sulu said. “There are hundreds of people at risk.” 

“If she explodes, we are at risk as well,” Chekov added. 

“Minimum safe distance, Hannity?” Sulu asked.

“We have a window of three minutes. We’d have to travel at maximum warp factor.” 

Chekov watched as Sulu absorbed the news. Three minutes would not be enough time to evacuate the ship. They would be lucky to get a third of the crew off before the other Enterprise crashed into the planet. 

“Sir, I’m receiving a signal from the other captain.” 

“On screen.” 

A stranger’s face appeared. “I’m Commander Will Riker of the USS Enterprise.” 

“Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu.” Riker looked surprised by the name, but Sulu pressed forward. “We know that you have suffered a breach in the warp core. We’re prepared to offer assistance. We can begin evacuating immediately. We’ll send you the coordinates so you can begin transporting as well.” 

Riker inclined his head and pushed a button to broadcast. “Riker here. General evacuation order four. I repeat, general evacuation order four.” 

Chekov immediately translated that. Women and children first. They were traveling with children on board? There was no time to worry about that now. Especially since…

“Life signs on the planet, Captain.” 

“Our Captain is down there,” Riker said. 

Chekov shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s Kirk and Spock.” 

Sulu straightened in his chair. “You’re sure about that?” 

“I have a positive identification.”

“Lock onto the coordinates and beam them up.” 

“Captain…” Chekov spun in his seat. “We do not have the time to divert energy away from the other ship. If we transport them now, we might lose forty or even eighty people.” 

“Captain…” Uhura turned from her console. “Sulu, if they’re down on the planet, we need to get them right now. We can’t wait.” 

“We don’t have time.” 

For the second time in as many minutes, the entire Bridge was silent. 

“We don’t have time,” Sulu repeated, louder. “The captain would make the same decision. Continue evacuation.”


	14. Chapter 14

Jim couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, but Spock ended up taking point and walking several yards ahead, tricorder at the ready. For several miles, Jim had insisted on traveling right at his side. They didn’t speak to each other much, but Jim wanted to prove that he was completely healthy and recovered from their brawl. Spock hadn’t exactly called him a liar when he had said as much, but he hadn’t exactly looked convinced, either. At first, things were fine. Then Jim looked up and Spock was about two feet ahead of him. The next time he looked up, it was three feet. Then four. Then two meters. Then five. 

Spock hadn’t increased his pace, so that must have meant that Jim was slowing down. Considerably. His legs ached like he was on a serious run instead of a rather pleasant hike through a forest. His bruised ribs ached, the pain increasing with each and every breath. Jim might have complained about the pain in his legs, but he would never dream of mentioning that he was having difficulty breathing. Spock still had trouble even looking at Jim’s bruises, and Jim had no intention of making the situation worse. He certainly didn’t need to be reminded of how he had bruised and injured Spock’s body. 

He could have lived with that pain but for the horrible ache just behind his eyes. It felt like somebody was using a diamond bit to drill right through his temple and into his skull. No matter how he held his head, no matter how he kept his eyes averted to block the worst of the light, and no matter how much water he drank when they reached fresh springs, he couldn’t coax the pain to abate. He didn’t know the source of the agony. He woke up that morning before the sun rose, Spock pressed to his back, and nearly puked from the pain. Spock might have seen the strain on his face, but he had held his tongue. Jim appreciated that—if Spock asked no questions then he wouldn’t be forced to tell any lies. 

A few times, he considered calling out to Spock and asking him to wait, but changed his mind before he could open his mouth. Spock had been back to his old self that morning. Which meant Spock had reverted to speaking to him only when it was absolutely necessary, and when he did, he inevitably called Jim _Captain_. It the most clipped, formal voice imaginable. Did he regret everything they had said and shown to each other? Was he just eager to finally break their camp and move on? Was this just how Spock showed affection? Trying to figure out what was going on in Spock’s mind was tricky at best. Now Jim didn’t even feel like he had his footing—literally or figuratively. 

From a distance, the destination Spock had declared most suitable looked like any one of the many mountain peaks surrounding them. They were in a very wide, very long, yet shallow valley, and Kirk couldn’t see any real advantage at first. Not until they began their ascent. Then Kirk realized that while the ridge wasn’t quite as steep as the rest, it was the tallest. At first, the climb hadn’t seemed serious. They certainly didn’t need any equipment to reach the summit. Any other time, Jim might have appreciated the hike. It was scenic without being too difficult. Except for the fact that Jim could barely breathe. That made the whole task about a thousand times more difficult. 

Jim looked up, gauging Spock’s distance again. He nimbly moved up the mountain, his long legs easily covering ground and carrying him forward. Kirk momentarily flashed to the moment he was certain he would die in a flattened mess on one of Vulcan’s shattering mountains. Spock had grown up in a land full of severe edges and cliffs. He had probably started climbing the sheer rock faces as soon as he could. This was nothing for him. Jim wished he could say as much, but Iowa was pretty famous for its complete and utter lack of mountains. Except for a few nature hikes while he was at the Academy, he had never climbed anything more intense than a flight of stairs. He was beginning to think that he was most suited for the plains and fields of corn. 

Spock was not only as graceful as fucking mountain goat, his uniform was also in fairly good shape. The back was a bit dirty, and there were blood stains on the front and around the collar—and how those got there Jim didn’t want to know—but all in all, he looked nearly as groomed and polished as he always did. Jim wasn’t so lucky. What he wore couldn’t fairly be described as a _uniform_ any longer. It was more of a gesture towards proper attire. He was quite certain that he didn’t look as bad as he felt, but that was only because he felt like shit. 

“Captain?” 

Jim looked up again. “Yes?” 

“Do you see that?” Spock pointed off into the distance. 

“No.” 

“It looks like a launcher of some sort.” 

“A launcher? Like, a rocket launcher?” 

“Yes.” 

“Out here in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Yes. It might be old and long abandoned, but it might have some sort of communications console attached.” 

“How can you even tell it’s there?” 

Spock frowned. “I am aware that my eyesight is superior to yours, but the distance is not that great.” 

Jim narrowed his eyes and tried to follow Spock’s finger, but he couldn’t see anything except dark blobs. And the dark blobs weren’t anything to get excited about. Especially since they seemed to be about a hundred miles away. Jim knew _that_ couldn’t be right. Something was interfering with his ability to judge distances. 

“No, you’re right. What do you think? Another hour?” 

“Perhaps. Maybe we could get there even sooner than that.” 

“Good.” 

Spock nodded, turned, and kept walking like he had never been interrupted. He sort of wished Spock had something else to say to him. Not that he wanted to sit down and have a confab about their feelings, but some sort of clue would have been nice. He had been literally inside of the Vulcan’s mind—not to mention his body—and he still felt like he didn’t have the first clue. And if he found it absolutely maddening, then how did Uhura ever…

Kirk bent over, hands resting flat on his knees, and gasped for breath. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, what a mess._ He’d be worried that Uhura would cut out his liver if he weren’t convinced he was about to die right there. 

Had Spock finally remembered his girlfriend? Was that why he acted as though nothing had happened at all? Jim didn’t blame him. He had been in a similar situation more than once, and it was never a pleasant place to be. Of course, that was when he had been juggling a few local girls while flirting with the cadets that passed through the shipyards. To his recollection, he never told a girl she was his soul mate and then proceeded to have a night of the most mind-blowing sex in the annals of time. But it could have happened. He had been drunk an awful lot in those days. Either way, Jim wasn’t going to make a bad situation worse for Spock. 

Some part of Jim became aware that the ground was moving. No, it wasn’t. _He_ was moving. Down. He put a hand out to catch himself, but it barely made a difference as he took a header into the dirt and loose rocks. “Talk about making a bad situation worse,” he muttered, struggling to pull his legs beneath him. 

Blood crawled down his face like a slow-moving spider. If he ever made it off the planet, he had the feeling that his face would never be the same. Maybe Bones could get him the number of a good plastic surgeon. He laughed a little at that, though there was nothing really funny about it, and made another effort to push himself to his feet. The rocks conspired with his own exhaustion to keep him flat on the ground. 

“Captain?” 

“Over here.” He had meant to shout it, but he couldn’t catch his breath enough for that. 

“Jim? What happened? Did you fall?” 

“No.” Strong hands grabbed his shoulder and then he was on his back and the sky above him didn’t look like the right color. It was green when it was supposed to be blue, and it was _spinning_. “Oh, that’s not good.” 

“Wait a moment. I’m attempting to ascertain the nature of your injury.” 

“Do you always talk like that? No, don’t answer me. My tongue feels swollen.” 

“You are probably dehydrated. It would be better if this were a medical tricorder.” Spock studied the monitor, looking more grim than usual. 

“Probably. Just get me to some water and I’ll be as good as new.” 

“I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, Captain.” 

“Why?” Jim tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. Maybe he really was going to die on that mountain. How stupid. How completely ridiculous. He should die on his ship, not staring up at some strange sky, while Spock fussed over him helplessly. 

“Your hands are swollen.” 

“Are they?” It took a great deal of effort, but he managed to lift his arms. His fingers didn’t seem a little larger than usual, but his eyes were starting to blur, so it was difficult to tell. “That’s nothing. It’s been worse.” 

“Captain, I’m afraid we’ll have to stop for the night.” 

“No.” 

“Yes. You are still injured from…” Spock paused for a split second, but Jim’s ears were still sharp enough to catch it. They could apologize to each other a million times, in a million different ways, and neither one of them would ever be absolved. Jim was learning to accept that fact. “The other night. And now it appears that you’re suffering from what is essentially altitude sickness.” 

“What?” 

“The atmosphere on this planet is too thin. I did not notice, as it is similar to Vulcan’s atmosphere.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, Jim.” 

“What do we do?” 

“We rest for a time, and then we turn around and go back the way we came.” 

“ _No._ ” 

“Jim…” 

“We are _not_ turning around. You were right. We need to get to higher ground, and the sooner the better. If we turn around now, we’re going to worsen are chances, not improve them.” Every word came at great cost, but Jim forced them out. He was only one more protest away from pulling rank and ordering Spock to finish the climb. 

“It’s too dangerous to leave you here. I do have food to leave with you, but there’s nothing that can serve as a weapon, and we should not be separated.” 

“Spock, I’m not going to let you stay here and waste time.” 

“And I’m not going to leave you.” 

“You _are_ going to leave me, Commander. This discussion is over.” 

“Jim…” 

“You’re going to go on ahead, and you’re going to scout the area and report back to me. That’s a direct order, Spock, and I’m not kidding.” 

He did expect Spock to fight with him. He didn’t expect Spock to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder. Jim didn’t actually respond immediately. It took several seconds to actually register the fact that he was hanging upside down from his first officer’s shoulder and watching the ground pass beneath him at a surprisingly clip pace. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“I’m not leaving you behind, Captain. And yet, I can’t disobey your orders. This seemed like the logical solution to the problem.”

“Spock, this isn’t going to work!” 

“It seems to be working quite well.” 

“All you’re going to do is exhaust yourself and then we’ll both be in the same boat.” 

“The same boat?” 

“The same bad situation.” 

“I am in complete control of my body, Captain. I will not exhaust myself.” 

“Spock…this is dumb. Put me down.” 

Spock didn’t respond. He didn’t slow. He didn’t give any indication that he had heard Jim’s order. And Jim realized he wasn’t going to win this battle. Short of beating Spock and forcing him to stop—which he was in no condition to do—he was pretty much stuck. Though he had to admit that he was already starting to feel a little bit better. What did he know of altitude sickness? It wasn’t just thin air or a lack of oxygen. It had to do with appropriate CO2 levels. Which meant even if they descended from the mountain, he’d still be ill. After prolonged exposure to this atmosphere, he’d be dead. Spock must have known that, too. Jim didn’t know if that explained why the Vulcan refused to leave him behind, or simply made his decision all the more illogical. 

_Spock, can you hear me?_

Jim waited several seconds, but Spock didn’t respond. Unfortunately, given Spock’s reticence throughout the day, that could either mean Spock didn’t hear him or Spock didn’t want to talk to him. Jim would have laughed if he wasn’t hanging upside down because he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. Only James T. Kirk could forge a _psychic_ connection with somebody and still be completely incapable of communication or comprehension. At the end of his first year at the Academy, he had scammed his way to accessing his file. Right there on the front page of his psych eval were the damning words _Poor interpersonal and communication skills_ and right below those were the final kick to the crotch. _A position of command not recommended_. Kirk had been angry at the time. He didn’t have _poor interpersonal skills_ , whatever the fuck that meant. Just because he had spent his entire childhood hiding behind books, and his entire adolescence hiding behind his fists didn’t mean he didn’t know how to _talk_ to people. 

Now Jim was starting to wonder if maybe there wasn’t something to that. 

“Spock?” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” 

“Until we reach the launcher.” 

“I think I can walk now.” 

“I do not believe that’d be wise.” 

At least nobody else was around to see this. And he could count on Spock to not mention it. He wouldn’t volunteer the information, at least, so Jim was in the clear as long as nobody directly questioned Spock. Spock might even be willing to exaggerate or skirt around the truth in order to protect Jim’s pride. He was the captain, after all. He was pretty much morally obligated to be above concerns like altitude sickness. 

_What about other concerns? Are you above those?_ Jim asked himself. _Like, for example, your boner?_

Jim sighed and closed his eyes. Yes, the boner was problematic, and yes, he should have been able to control himself. It wasn’t as though he found his current position terribly arousing. To his knowledge, nobody in the universe thought that the fireman’s carry was erotic. Not to mention that he was still sick to his stomach and if he didn’t keep his eyes closed the whole world started to spin. But apparently his cock didn’t understand that just being near Spock wasn’t enough to justify a response. 

That could make things awkward if they ever got back to the Enterprise. Eventually, somebody would notice him sporting wood on the Bridge and figure out a way to put two and two together. He and Spock hadn’t discussed it, but Jim had the feeling that whatever they did—whatever bonded them—would remain their secret. Remembering the very specific fraternization rules that governed Star Fleet only contributed to that feeling. 

“Spock, I think I can walk now.” 

“It is better if you rest.” 

“I’ve been resting for a long time now. Really, I’m feeling much better.” 

“Would you like to pause for nourishment?” 

“No, I’d just like to walk now.” 

“Very well.” 

Spock bent his knees and let Kirk slide to the ground. He felt better as soon as his feet touched the dirt, but as all the blood rushed from his head, he realized he was in danger of collapsing again. He grabbed Spock’s shoulder to steady himself, but somehow that turned into more of an embrace than anything. 

“Jim…” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

He moved to pull away, but Spock put his hand against the small of his back and held him in place. He had no idea where they were in relation to the launcher. He was barely even aware that the world beyond Spock existed. “We need to talk.” 

“I know.” 

“It would be most logical to speak after we have investigated the launcher.” 

“I agree.” 

“I heard you before. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.” 

“You were probably too busy concentrating on carrying me up a mountain.” 

“Yes. But I am willing to continue if you need me to.” 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

“Please tell me if you begin to feel ill again.” 

“I will tell you, but I would rather not be carried.” 

“I know you don’t enjoy it, but I will not leave you behind.” 

“I know, Spock. I…” 

The unmistakable sound of a phaser beam hitting off rocks stopped him midsentence. Spock’s gaze immediately darted around, surveying the area, and they both moved at the same time, hitting the ground to get out of the line of fire. 

“What the hell?” 

“Somebody is firing.” 

“Where? Are they firing at us?” Jim dared to lift his head and look around, but his vision was still completely distorted. Whatever the atmosphere was doing to him, the completely swollen eye wasn’t helping. 

“Negative. They’re firing on the ridge approximately thirty meters to the northwest.” 

“Can you tell me how many there are?” 

“Just one phaser, but there are at least two figures. Perhaps more. The landscape makes it difficult to tell.” 

“I think we need to get closer and investigate. Whoever has the phaser could be from the ship.” 

“The chances are exceedingly small, Captain.” 

“Are the chances nonexistent?” 

“No.” 

“Then we’re going to investigate.” Jim surveyed the area again, absorbing as many details as he could despite his poor vision. It seemed that if they approached the shooter from behind, the incline would be too stiff for him. Spock would be able to handle it. “You go around to the left, I’ll go to the right. Stay low, and if you can disarm or disable whoever is firing, do it.” 

Spock nodded and pushed himself into a crouching position. For just a moment, he was disappointed Spock hadn’t tried to argue with him about it. He could have. There were certainly several different approaches he could have used. They didn’t know if the man with the weapon was a friend or an enemy. They didn’t know if they were running into a trap. They didn’t even know if Jim could make it another thirty meters. On the other hand, a person with a phaser might also have a communicator. And those three people were three more than Jim had expected to see. They had no choice to approach. 

“Spock.” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

_I wouldn’t have left you behind, either._ “Good luck.” 

Spock inclined his head as if to say _of course_ and then he was gone. Jim pushed himself to his feet and threw a glance over his shoulder. Smoke rose above the distant trees, and smoke slashed across the sky, like a bleeding gash. Like something had fallen from the stars. High above the smoke, something shimmered, moving almost hypnotically, like a ribbon fluttering in the breeze.


	15. Chapter 15

“James Kirk.”

Jim spun around, looking for the source of the words through the trees. The voice was unfamiliar. A deep baritone with just a hint of an accent. Jim had heard that accent before—usually from the cadets who had trained at the academy in London but had been born in a different country. He opened his mouth to ask him just who the hell he was—and where the hell they were—but another voice cut him off. A strangely familiar one. 

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” 

The deep baritone again. And now there was another sound. A steady, solid _thwack_. “Yes…it is.”

Where was Spock? There was no sign of the Vulcan anywhere. Of course, he might have been better off asking where _he_ was, because it certainly wasn’t on the dry, rocky mountain he had just finished climbing. He took a deep breath, surprised by the sweet fragrance. It was an amazing relief after the nearly constant sour-milk reek of the strange planet. But there was something else in the air…something like eggs. 

“Do you mind?” 

Jim followed the familiar voice, skidding down a slight slope until he reached a clearing with a rather large cabin. Two older men stood outside of it, one bending over a pile of wood, the other with an axe in his hand. They were both wearing what looked to be Starfleet uniforms, but they were unfamiliar to Jim. Like they had come from a different time. Or a different dimension. _Oh, fuck. Did I just get sucked into an alternate universe?_ Six months earlier, the thought would have never entered his mind, but now, knowing what he knew, it was all too possible. 

“Captain, do you realize that--.” 

Jim’s nose tickled as he passed by the cabin’s open window. The smell of eggs was stronger now, and Jim had no doubt where it was coming from. 

“Hey, guys? I think something is burning.” 

Both men turned to face him. And then both of their mouths fell open. Jim grimaced as they stared at him and rubbed his swollen eye. “It looks worse than it is. Trust me.” 

They continued to stare at him. Like he was a ghost or something. He quickly checked over his shoulder, wondering if Spock was behind him, but there was nothing but trees. When he turned back, they were still gaping at him. 

“I’m serious about the burning thing. Is there something on the stove in there?” 

“Jim Kirk?” The one with the familiar voice asked. 

“Yeah. How did you know?” 

He put a hand up to his chest. “I’m you.” 

“You’re…me?” Jim wanted to protest that as impossible, but as he approached the older man, he realized it wasn’t. Maybe improbable. Maybe crazy. But not impossible. “James T. Kirk? Captain of the Enterprise?” 

“Yep, that’s me.” 

Jim blinked. How had Spock taken this in stride? For a split second, the world vibrated. As though everything was just about to shatter. As though the Universe couldn’t handle the paradox of a man meeting himself. As soon as it happened, it was over, everything sliding back into place. Spock would have known what to do. He would have made some suggestion to end the staring contest. Where the hell was he? 

“And I’m Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Also of the starship Enterprise.” 

Jim looked over to the other man. He definitely didn’t recognize him. Jim didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Okay, it’s great meeting both of you. Or myself. Whatever. But I need to know where the hell we are and what the hell is going on. Anybody?” 

Picard raised his hand. “I believe I can answer that. You see--.” 

“Something _is_ burning. If you’ll excuse me.” 

The older Kirk buried his axe in the tree stump and hurried into the house. Picard sighed, then followed him. Jim remained still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Spock probably wasn’t in the house. But…there was no telling where he was. Both Picard and the older Kirk seemed to be fairly comfortable. If he could get them to talk, he might have some sort of lead for finding Spock. He trotted after them, only slightly surprised to realize that all his earlier symptoms were gone. 

“This is my house.” Kirk gestured at the younger version of himself standing in the doorway. “Or at least it used to be. I sold it years ago.” 

Jim frowned and looked around. He couldn’t imagine ever having the means or the desire to own a house like that. And once he did own it, he couldn’t imagine selling it. It was about three times the size of the house where he grew up, and it was decorated in a strangely antiquated style. Like he had to reach two centuries into the past to find his home. It was pleasant, but not anything he could imagine decorating himself. 

“Are you guys hungry? These eggs are just about done.” 

“I need to talk to you…to both of you…” Picard started. 

“Look, I need to talk to you guys, too. Where the hell are we and what the hell is happening?” Jim asked. 

“That’s what I’m trying to explain. I come from your future. The twenty-third century.” 

Jim frowned. “You’re not here because of a blackhole are you?” 

“No. This has nothing to do with a black hole.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” 

A gruff bark made both Jim and Picard jump. The older Kirk, however, just looked delighted. “Jake!” 

“Who’s Jake?” 

“My old dog.” 

A massive beast loped into the house, licking Kirk’s face with undeniable enthusiasm. Kirk accepted the sign of affection, scratching behind the dog’s ear with delight. Jim took an involuntary step backward. 

“Come over and say hi,” Kirk encouraged. 

“No, I…I really don’t like dogs.” 

“What? How can you not like dogs?” 

“Captain Kirk--.” 

“He’s been dead for seven years,” Kirk muttered with an another affectionate pat to Jake’s head. “But here he is.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to explain.” 

“Come on, Jim! I’m starving.” 

Jim looked up to the ceiling. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Antonia. You haven’t met her yet, but she’s…” 

“Where’s Spock?” 

The question clearly startled the older man. “I…I don’t know what you mean.” 

Jim didn’t expect to hear a woman’s voice in the house. It had never occurred to him that his older self might be playing house with a woman. But he didn’t want to discuss his assumptions or where they stemmed from. So he gestured at the three of them, vaguely pointing to the emblems, as if to remind everybody that they were first and foremost concerned with Starfleet business. “Spock should be here. He was with me. And now I don’t know where he is.” 

“He might be here in the Nexus.” 

“Did you say something about the future?” Kirk asked. “This is nine years ago. When I told her that I was going back to Starfleet.” 

“Back to? You _left_ Starfleet? You left the Enterprise?” 

“It didn’t exactly happen like that.” Kirk shook his head. “And this isn’t going to happen the same way, either. I never thought that I would get another chance.” 

“Look, I know how real this must seem for you. It’s supposed to seem real. Perfect.” 

Jim snorted. If it was supposed to seem real and perfect, why was he standing in a weird kitchen, talking to a much older , stranger version of himself while another man from a century into the future desperately tried to catch his attention? All without Spock? 

“We’re caught in some sort of temporal nexus,” Picard finished. 

“Dill weed. There’s some in the cupboard. Behind the nutmeg.” 

“No.” Jim slammed his hand down on the cupboard. “No dill weed. No nutmeg. No eggs. Turn off the stove.” 

“Now listen to me. You can’t come in and tell me what I’m going to do in my own kitchen.” 

“The hell I can’t. I’m trying to figure out where I am. And where Spock is, and I’m tired of listening to you prattle on about eggs and some woman.” Jim turned to Picard. “What is a temporal nexus?” 

Picard turned to Kirk. “How long have you been here?” 

“I don’t know. I was on the Enterprise-B…in the deflector control room…and the bulkhead in front of me disappeared. Then I was out there chopping wood.” 

“Wait. That’s how you died? That’s how I die?” 

“No,” Picard said. “He didn’t die. History records that as his death, but this isn’t a paradise. It’s a…” 

“Temporal nexus,” Jim said. “Right. What the hell does that mean?” 

“That’s not important. The important thing is that we can leave, and I’d like you to leave with me.” Picard frowned and turned to the younger man. “The only thing I don’t understand is why you’re here.” 

“I don’t know. I was on some strange planet with Spock, and we found a rocket launcher and heard people fighting. Everything went dark and then I was standing in the woods here.” 

If anything, Picard seemed even more confused by the explanation. “How did you end up on Veridian III?” 

“I don’t know. One second I was on the Enterprise, the next we—Spock and I—were on the planet. We were trying to find a way off when he found the rocket launcher.” 

“Veridian III is part of a system that has only recently been discovered. It’s on the far side of Klingon space. The Enterprise should have never made it that far.” 

Jim shrugged. “Look, I don’t know how we got there. I don’t really care right now. I just want to find Spock, get back to that planet, and get back to my ship. That’s all.” 

“Good. Because I want to take you back.” He looked back to Kirk. “I want to take you both back. We must stop Soran before he blows up the star. Millions of lives are at stake.” 

“But if you have him,” Kirk pointed to his counterpart, “then you don’t need me. I can stay here. Have another chance with Antonia. I could do it right this time. I used to be worried about duty and obligations. I couldn’t see past the uniform. What did that get me? Nothing. Not this time.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. “What a bunch of bullshit. You want to know what you’ll get out of doing the right thing? Even _I_ can see the problem with that.”

Kirk frowned. “You said you’re the captain of the Enterprise?”

“Yes.” 

“How? You can’t be more than twenty-three. Twenty-four.” 

“I’m twenty-five, and it’s a long story.” 

“I’d like to hear it.” 

“I would, too. But that isn’t what’s important right now. Stopping Soran is what’s important.” 

“You want to know what you’ll get out of it this time?” Jim asked softly. “How about Spock? Is that enough?” 

“Spock?” 

“He’s on my ship right now. I mean, the Spock from your time. My future.” It was a small lie, but Jim didn’t think that mattered right then. They would find Ambassador Spock. When Jim finally got back to the Enterprise. “And he needs you.” That might have also been a lie, but it _felt_ right in his gut. It certainly couldn’t hurt the sick Vulcan to see his old friend and captain. 

“How? Spock traveled back in time?” 

“Spock was sucked into a black hole. It changed the events of _my_ timeline. That’s why I’m the captain now. That’s why…well, it’s not important how much everything changed. All that really matters was that he’s now stuck one hundred and twenty-nine years in _his_ past, on _my_ ship. He mind melded with me and he needs you. I know he does.” 

“Spock needs me?” 

“Yes.” 

Kirk turned to Picard. “Do you know anything about that?” 

“No. Honestly, I don’t have any idea what he’s talking about.” 

Kirk looked up to the stairs. His mind was made up. Jim could tell, though Picard still looked uneasy and tense. “If Spock needs me, then I’ll go.” 

Jim smiled. “Great. I’m glad that’s settled. But before we go anywhere, I need to find Spock.” 

“How do you know he’s in the nexus?” Picard asked. 

“I don’t, but he might be. And if he is, then I’m not leaving him behind.” 

Kirk dumped the frying pan of eggs into the sink and wiped his hand. “Then I guess we better get to work.” 

#

“Spock, you barely touched your supper.” 

He glanced down at the plate in front of him, surprised to see that she was right. Only one or two bites from the stir fry had been consumed, and his fork had been on abandoned on the table. He couldn’t remember the last time she had prepared stir fry for him, but she kept insisting that the day was special. As far as Spock could tell, it was a day like any other. When he pointed out that it was illogical to elevate one day above another, she had smiled a smile of deep affection and amusement. 

“Is it not to your liking?” 

“I apologize, Mother. It is very much to my liking.” 

“I hope so, Spock.” She wiped the corner of her mouth and replaced the napkin on her lap. “I know that you would rather I only make Vulcan cuisine for you now, but I thought you might appreciate a treat.” 

“It is illogical to refer to food as a treat. It is simply a requirement to nourish the body.” 

“It can still be a treat, Spock. And it’s not illogical to enjoy your food. You have taste buds, don’t you?” 

“Only because taste buds offer a distinct biological advantage.” 

“Is that so, Spock?” 

“Yes. Otherwise, you would be at risk of eating things that are detrimental to your body.” 

“Is that stir fry detrimental to your body?” 

“No, Mother.” 

“Then eat up.” 

Spock obediently picked up his fork and watched as Amanda stabbed at the vegetables on her plate. He had never asked about her dietary habits before she married Sarek, but sometimes he did wonder if she missed meat, or sweet food. She hadn’t once complained about Vulcan food, but there was no denying her delight over the familiar Terran dish. 

“Why is today special, Mother?” 

“Do you really not know?” 

“If I knew, I would not have asked.” 

“It’s your birthday, Spock.” 

Spock looked up. “Vulcans don’t celebrate birthdays.” 

Amanda smiled again, and she looked like she was glowing in the evening light. The setting sun reflected off the red cliffs surrounding their home, and filled the dining area with a golden light. Spock always enjoyed that time of the day, when he sat down to take the evening meal with his mother. She listened with infinite patience as he discussed that day’s training, only occasional interrupting with a question. Once he was finished recounting what he had done, she would do any number of things. Sometimes, she told him about her own day. Sometimes, she took advantage of her captive audience and taught him about Earth history or literature or art or culture. 

“Yes, but humans do. And we’ve always celebrated yours.” 

“It was a childish distraction. I have outgrown such things.” 

“Perhaps you have, but I haven’t. You were a gift to me, Spock, and I’m always going to honor that. Now you stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

Spock had no intention of leaving the table, and he returned to his meal as the rustle of her skirts faded from his hearing. Somehow, she had managed to obtain several different types of Terran vegetables, including her favorite broccoli, red pepper, and garlic. The garlic secretly delighted Spock. Vulcans occasionally indulged in finely prepared food, but for the most part, the truly decadent meals were saved for special occasions. Some Vulcans considered the enjoyment of food to be totally illogical, and they were quite happy to subsist on the most basic recipes, eating for nothing more than the nourishment their bodies required. 

Spock secretly loved food, and he especially loved the sting of garlic on his sensitive tongue. It infused the entire dish with such a wonderful flavor that Spock didn’t know why Vulcans didn’t attempt to cultivate the bulbs and incorporate them into every dish. He had never told his mother about his fondness for garlic, but she seemed to be aware of it. Whenever she acquired it, she always shared it freely, allowing Spock to indulge in some very un-Vulcan pleasure. The vegetables were served with Terran rice, a dish that he had grown to quite like over the years. Sarek found rice to be quite unpalatable. He wasn’t fond of the texture, and judging from his reaction, most Vulcans would find it equally abhorrent. Spock had no idea what he found so distasteful about it. 

“Close your eyes,” Amanda said as she returned to the dining room. 

Spock did so without asking her why. Sometimes, he was curious about her illogical decisions and simply wanted to understand why her brain worked the way it did. Other times, he accepted her without a word, ignoring his curiosity for a later date. 

This time, he felt something press against his hands. He automatically closed his fingers around it and recognized the size, shape, and weight as a book. 

“Happy Birthday, Spock. You can open your eyes now.” 

He wasn’t surprised to see that he was, in fact, holding a book. He was however surprised to see that it was clearly Terran in origin. And it was also an antique. Perhaps at least as much as two hundred years old. He ran his fingers over the gold-leaf title, mouthing the words as he read them. 

“I hope you enjoy it. It was my favorite book when I was your age.” 

“It is something you read for pleasure?” 

“Yes.” 

“Books should be for edification.” 

Amanda laughed, not unkindly. “You will find this particular book very edifying. I certainly learned a lot from it. It’s an heirloom, Spock. My father gave it to me, and his father gave it to him. Now I’m giving it to you. Maybe someday, you will pass it on to somebody who is important to you.” 

“Thank you. I am very…grateful and honored.” He opened the cover and scanned the first page. 

“Read it out loud,” Amanda encouraged. “I want to hear you.” 

“ ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity.’” Spock looked up with a frown. “This does not make any sense.” 

“Why not?” 

“It is a paradox. It cannot both be the best of times and the worst of times.” 

“It’s poetic license, Spock. The book isn’t trying to be accurate. It’s trying to be truthful.” 

Spock shook his head. “I do not understand how something can be inaccurate and truthful at the same time. That is another paradox.” 

She briefly cupped the side of his face. Spock knew that meant she wanted to hug him, but as he matured, she refrained from subjecting him to that, instead settling for brief, polite contact. “You will understand one day, Spock. It may not be until you’re much older, but you’ll understand. In the meantime, just try to enjoy the book.” 

“I’ll treasure it always.” 

Amanda nodded, like that was the most she had been hoping to hear. “If you are finished with your meal, you may be excused to your studies.” 

“Mother?” 

“Yes?” 

“Are you well?” 

She laughed. “I’m quite well, Spock. Why do you ask?” 

“I just suddenly…” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I experienced the quite illogical sensation that you were…” 

“That I was what?” 

_Dead._ “Sick.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Would you like me to continue to read to you?” 

He could tell the simple offer meant a great deal to her. Her dark eyes lit up, and the smile returned to her mouth. Her frequent and bright smiles often made the inhabitants of Vulcan uncomfortable. They found her unnerving. They could not categorize her. It would have been easy to dismiss her as an irrational, emotional human, but for the fact that she held a rather prominent place in their society as the wife of Sarek. Surely, the Elders would not have allowed such a match—would not have allowed a child to have been begotten from the match—if she could not be trusted. 

And yet…

And yet, she was so clearly human. 

“Spock, I don’t want to infringe on your nightly studies. I know how important that time is to you.” 

“Yes, I would like to spend it with you.” 

“Thank you. Perhaps we should retire to the sitting room?” 

“Yes.” 

“You go on then. I’ll be in after I clean up dinner.” 

Spock stood, holding the book close to his chest, and passed through the high doorway from the dining room into the…

The computer blinked at him in the pristine room. It was much smaller than the ones at the education center, but it was far more advanced than anything the other Vulcan children had access to. Sarek had built it, taking advantage of the opportunity to teach Spock exactly what computers were and how they worked. Spock had watched Sarek build the machine with curiosity, interest, and more than a little wonder. Sarek had kept up a constant narrative as he worked, explaining what each component was, what it did, and how it worked with the other components. Spock had carefully packed each nugget of information away, absorbing it so he would never forget it. 

Now the computer was spitting information at him with an accelerated rate. Anybody else would struggle with keeping up with the rapid fire approach, but Spock found a certain amount of comfort in it. He had programmed it to work even faster than the computers at the center, requiring himself to both speak and type his answers. He might be explaining Surak’s principles while his hands flew over the keyboard, performing advanced calculations for the problem on the screen further to the left. He augmented his education with six hours of that sort of study on a daily basis. 

The computer never tripped him up until… 

“Where is James T. Kirk?” 

“Repeat.” 

“Where is James T. Kirk?” 

The name was meaningless to him. Spock chose to ignore it. “Computer, new question.”

“What is the location of James T. Kirk?” 

“Computer, new question.” 

“Who is James T. Kirk?” 

“I do not know.” 

“Have you seen James T. Kirk?” 

Spock frowned. “Computer, who is James T. Kirk?” 

“Kirk, James T., captain of the Star Fleet flagship U. S.S. Enterprise. He is missing.” 

“He’s not missing. I just saw him.” He looked over his shoulder, wondering if the strange man was standing behind him. There wasn’t anybody there. There wasn’t a wall, either. There was only…

Wide open green sky. The hike required Spock’s complete focus. Any distraction could lead to a potentially fatal mistake, but he had never seen the sky that shade before. His brain was telling him that was scientifically impossible. The atmosphere refracted the sunlight in such a way that that shade of green should not have been possible. It reminded him of the color of blood. He carefully balanced on the ledge, studying the huge expanse above him, looking for any clue. But there was nothing. 

“Spock!” 

He swung his head to the right. Who could be calling to him? He had left his father’s home early that morning, while the entire land was still plunged in night’s darkness. He had not told anybody where he planned to go or how long he would be. And yet, somebody was calling to him. 

“Spock!” 

The figure was high above him on a different ledge. He waved his arms in a wide gesture, seemingly unconcerned with his personal safety. The ledges on this particular mountain were all quite narrow and required a great deal of concentration. But this person was jumping up and down and waving his arms like he it wasn’t an issue at all. 

“Spock! Up here! I’ve been waiting for you!” 

“Who are you?” 

“A friend! We need to talk!” 

“Stay there. I will come to you.” 

Spock had no idea why he would say or do such a thing, but he was moving before he could reconsider. He scrambled up the steep rock face, finding the finger and toe holds with surprising ease. As he moved, the figure above him began to make sense. He could make out certain details—a stained and tore shirt, a swollen eye, a boyish face, a wide, welcoming smile. 

“Spock…” 

“…you haven’t touched your dinner.” 

Spock looked down at the stir fry, surprised to see that it was mostly untouched, his fork abandoned on the table. _Wait. This isn’t right. I’ve already had this meal._

“Mother, is it my birthday today?” 

Amanda beamed at him from across the table. “You remembered this time. I’m so pleased.” 

“And you made this meal as a special treat to…celebrate my birthday?” 

“Yes. Don’t you like it?” 

“It is an excellent meal, Mother.” 

“Good. I’m glad you like it. It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to cook anything like this.” 

A sharp rap on the door cut off his words, and Amanda rose from her seat. “Who could that be at this hour? You stay here.” 

“No!” 

“Spock? What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t answer it.” 

The knocking resumed. _One. Two. Three._ Pause. _One. Two. Three._ Pause. 

“This is silly, Spock.” 

“I don’t think we should answer it.” 

“What’s the logic of that?” 

There wasn’t any. There wasn’t any logic to any of this, but Spock knew when he had been beat. “Very well. I shall answer it. After all, I’m the head of household while Sarek is off-planet.” 

“Of course, Spock. If that’s what you think is best.” 

Spock stood and circled the table, pausing when he reached Amanda. He didn’t know what possessed him, but once the strange need struck him, he couldn’t deny it. He reached out and touched Amanda’s fingers with two of his own. “Thank you for my birthday.” 

“Spock?” 

He turned away from her and went to answer the door. A smiling man stood on the other side, and the smile only broadened when he saw Spock. “I’ve been looking for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole several lines of dialogue from **Star Trek: Generations** , specifically the scene in the Nexus between Picard and Kirk.


	16. Chapter 16

“So…where are we?” 

“I don’t know _where_ we are, but I do know we don’t belong here.” 

“How can you know that?” Spock demanded. 

Jim sighed. He knew this was going to be difficult, but he hadn’t expected the Vulcan to be quite so stubborn. Clearly, there was something very wrong here. Jim had figured that out immediately, but for whatever reason, Spock had not clued in to that fact. Or he had, and he simply refused to believe it. 

“Because I just _walked_ to Vulcan in about ten minutes. Does anything about that sentence make sense to you?” 

“No. I do not understand how that is possible.” 

“It’s _not_. That’s why I know that something is wrong here!” 

“Why did you seek me out?” 

“Because if anybody can fix it, it’s you. And also, _we_ don’t belong here, Spock. Don’t you remember me at all?” 

“No.” 

Jim tried not to let the denial hurt him, but it did. It stung quite a bit. 

“I’m Captain James T. Kirk of the…” 

“U.S.S. Enterprise.” 

“How did you know that?” 

“I didn’t. The computer told me.” 

“When?” 

Spock frowned. “I…do not recall.” 

“Well, either way, the computer is correct. I’m the Captain and you’re the head of the science department and the first officer. Any of that ringing a bell?” 

“I am too young for that position. Besides, I am not even a member of Starfleet.” 

“Spock, no. All of this…all of this is just an illusion. It’s a dream. I don’t know. Maybe somebody is just fucking with us. But this isn’t real. None of this is real.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Yes, it is!” Jim sighed. “Look, we can leave. This isn’t some sort of prison. We can just walk out with Captain Picard and…” 

“Who is Captain Picard?” 

“He’s…it’s a long story. But he needs our help, and I’m not going anywhere without you. The person who sent us here blew up a sun or something. The planet we were on was uninhabited. But the next planet over was not. Millions of lives were lost.” 

“I do not understand how we can help them.” 

Jim stared at him, surprised that Spock had barely reacted to the loss of millions of lives. Except, Spock clearly didn’t remember his life outside of the nexus. Spock hadn’t experienced the loss of his mother, of his homeworld, of everything he had ever held dear. Spock hadn’t seen the very destruction that took his mother away from him. Spock studied him with curiosity, but without any of the torment that usually lurked just behind his eyes. In fact, Spock seemed content. As content as any Vulcan could seem. 

“Picard said that we can go back to just before he launched the rocket and exploded the star. We can stop him and save those lives.” 

“How is that possible?” 

“I don’t…I don’t know, Spock. I don’t know how a temporal nexus works, or why we’re stuck in it, or why that Soran person has killed so many people for it. I don’t understand any of this. All I know is that we need to get out of here.” 

“I don’t wish to leave.” 

“What were you doing when I knocked on the door?” Jim gestured at the table. “Were you eating?” 

“My mother had cooked a special meal for me.” 

“Why? What was the occasion?” 

“My birthday.” 

“Vulcans don’t celebrate birthdays.” 

“My mother is not a Vulcan.” 

Jim inclined his head. “Fair enough. How many times have you celebrated this birthday? How many times have you had this meal?” 

Spock frowned. “I…” 

“How many times?” 

“This would be the third time I can recall.” 

“Does that sound right to you?” Jim asked gently. 

Spock looked away, turning his head to gaze out the window. Darkness was falling like a curtain, and there wasn’t much to see. “I do not wish to discuss this any longer.” 

“You know there’s something wrong here. That’s why you don’t want to listen to me. That’s why you can barely stand to look at me.” 

“I do not want to listen to you because you are not speaking reasonably.” 

“Spock?” Amanda drifted into the room. “How are you both doing? Do you desire refreshments?” 

“No, thanks, Mrs. Sarek,” Jim muttered. 

“Call me Amanda. Please. I didn’t know Spock knew anybody from Starfleet.” 

“Yes, your son and I actually go way back.” 

“I’m glad. I was afraid Spock didn’t have any friends at all.” 

“Vulcans do not have friends,” Spock murmured stiffly. “Friendship is a human construct, supported by completely human emotions.” 

“Sometimes, I think I’ll have to spend the rest of my life reminding Spock he’s half human. And there’s no shame in that.” 

Spock jumped to his feet. “I’m not ashamed of you, Mother. Don’t ever think that.” 

“Oh, Spock, I know you’re not. No mother could ask for a better son.” She turned to Jim. “Just call me if you need anything.” 

Jim nodded his understanding. Neither one of them spoke again until she left the room. “You remember, don’t you? You remember your life. Remember what you lost.” 

“This is my life.” 

Jim sighed. “I’m not going to make you leave. I’m not going to drag you out of here, or order you to follow orders. Trust me, if I woke up and my father was alive and my mother was making dinner for my birthday, I don’t think I’d be able to leave, either.” He stood, wondering if the heavy sick feeling in his midsection meant he was doing the right thing. “I’m not going to be the one who takes her away from you twice.” 

Jim realized he meant every single word. He simply wasn’t going to take Amanda away from Spock again. Even if that meant Spock spent an entire eternity in the nexus. Even if that meant Jim never saw him again. The Enterprise could function without him. Somehow. It probably wouldn’t function _well_ , and Uhura would never forgive him, and he had no idea how he was supposed to be an efficient captain without his first mate. He had no idea how he was supposed to live without Spock at all, but he would have to find a way. People learned to adjust after they lost limbs. Jim could do the same. 

“Goodbye Spock. I…I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“I’m breaking a promise to you right now. You might realize that someday. When you do, I just want you to remember that I am sorry.” He paused at the door and turned around again, getting one last look at his first officer. His friend. His mate. That word hadn’t made sense to him earlier. When Spock used it to explain what happened to them, Jim hadn’t quite understood. It had seemed a little cheesy from overuse. Humans in particular were adept at throwing around the word soulmate. But it fit now. Spock was more than just his friend, just his partner, just a lover. “Good luck.” 

“I wish the same to you.”

“I think I’m going to need a bit more than that.” With a final nod, Jim stepped out of the house and shut the door behind him. 

Picard and Kirk were waiting for him on the porch, and they both looked up expectantly when he emerged. 

“Well?” Kirk asked. 

“I couldn’t do it.” 

“What?” 

“I just couldn’t do it. You should see him. He’s where…he’s where he wants to be. Where he needs to be.” 

Kirk grabbed his arm. “You can’t just leave him here.” 

Jim shook free of the hold. “Leave it.” 

“You need him. Trust me. I know.” 

“I’ve heard all of this before. The other Spock went on and on about what great friends we’d be and how wonderful our relationship would be. But you know what? Things are different for us. For me. What might be true for your life isn’t going to be true for mine.” 

“I don’t believe that.” 

“Well, it’s the truth. Spock is better off here.” He looked through the window and saw Spock settling in the sitting room with his mother. “He belongs here.” 

“He belongs with you.” 

_Spock? Are you there? Can you hear me?_

Through the window, he watched Spock open the book and rest it on his lap. There was no response. 

“Come on. Let’s go.” 

#

“Why are you letting this continue?” Spock demanded, genuine anger coloring his words. 

Q held up his hands innocently. “I am not doing anything. It’s their choice whether or not they want to leave the nexus.” 

“You placed them inside of it.” 

“Ah, no. If they had reached the rocket in time, they could have prevented the launch and then been rescued with my dear friend, Jean-Luc. But they didn’t reach the rocket in time and now…well, you can see for yourself.” 

“The wager is lost?” 

“It would appear that way. After all, the terms stated quite clearly that they both needed to return to the ship.” 

“What will happen now?” 

“History will happen. This _is_ where Jim Kirk died. Weren’t you aware of that?” 

“No,” Spock said gruffly. 

“Jean-Luc never contacted you and told you where you could find the remains of your friend?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to take away your opportunity to see just how Captain Kirk met his end. Unless, of course, you don’t want to see?” 

“This isn’t history you changed? Even without your influence, Picard found Jim in the nexus and brought him back here?” 

“Oh, I haven’t influenced Picard’s timeline at all. Well…” Q smirked. “Not recently. Everything will unfold as it happened. With one exception. There will be two burial markers on this mountain when it’s all over.” 

Spock shook his head. “I refuse to believe that.” 

“You don’t have to believe me. People are free to ignore annoying, inconvenient facts all they want. But once young Mister Spock made his decision…the wheels of destiny were put into motion.” Q shook his head. “It’s a bit ironic, though. Kirk gave up a chance at love to come and die on this God forsaken mountain. Nobody will even come to visit his grave. And his young counterpart chose love for the first time in his life, and now he’s going to die on the same God forsaken mountain.” 

The words were meant to be salt in a freshly opened wound. Was Q being malicious? Was he acting out of a place of hatred and spite? Or did he simply believe that both he and Spock were above such silly human emotions as grief? After all, Spock had long ago made peace with the loss of his t’hy’la, and he could not fault the younger Jim Kirk for the choice he made. He had no doubt been acting out of a place of mercy. Whether or not Q was being cruel, he was definitely being short-sighted. 

Jim Kirk’s capacity for mercy, for love, had always been one of his greatest strengths. He had made decisions with his heart more than once. And they had been the right ones. 

“You know that if Captain Kirk dies, I will die, too.” 

“Not right away. I’ll have time to return you to the Enterprise, and return the Enterprise to its proper place in time.” 

“Can you grant a dying Vulcan his final wish and be gracious in victory?” 

“What’s that?” 

“If both men must die on this planet, then I wish to join them. Let my grave be here.” 

Q bowed, a gesture that was both mocking and chivalrous. “Your wish is my command.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Thirty seconds, Captain,” Hannity announced. 

“Scotty?” 

“We’ve beamed over four hundred people with both of our transporters working at maximum, but there are still…six hundred on the other ship.” 

Sulu winced. “Is that all we can do?” 

“Captain, they’re entering the planet’s atmosphere,” Chekov announced.

“Twenty seconds, Captain.” 

“Right. Scotty, we’re clearing out.” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

“Chekov, maximum warp. We’ll circle back to the planet after the explosion and pick up Kirk and Spock.” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

“We’ve lost contact with the Enterprise,” Uhura announced. “They’ve entered the atmosphere.” 

“Scotty, did you transport any officers over?” 

“Negative. They refused to leave the ship.” 

Sulu wasn’t surprised by that bit of information. He didn’t think any of the men or women currently on the Bridge would have abandoned the Enterprise in a similar situation. As they warped away from the danger, his heart twisted. They were leaving Kirk and Spock behind. Every instinct and moment of training told him that was wrong. They should have picked up Kirk and Spock first. They should have ignored the distress signals from the other ship if it meant guaranteeing the captain’s safety. They had finally found them after nearly thirty hours of searching, and they were just going to leave them? 

“How long until we can return to orbit?” Sulu asked. 

“The minimum safe time is ten minutes.” 

“Right. There are still at least six hundred people on the ground. Hopefully, they are all survivors. Uhura, have you been able to contact Starfleet?” 

“Negative. I’m not receiving any signals.” 

“That means we need to provide all necessary aid to the survivors. McCoy?” 

“McCoy here.” 

“How are things down in sickbay?” 

“Minor injuries. Nothing major. I should have everybody patched up and good as new in less than an hour.” 

“I want to send down a medical team to help with the survivors on the planet. As many people as you can spare.” 

“Right. What about Jim and Spock?” 

Sulu took a deep breath. “They’re priority number one as soon as we return to orbit. Sulu out.” 

“Captain…” Chekov flicked several switches on the sensors. “Captain, the sensors are…” 

“What is it?” 

“The sensors are still picking up life signs on the planet. Including on the Enterprise-D. And there are four signs where I found Kirk and Spock before.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Spock is…gone.” 

“What do you mean?” Uhura demanded. “How can he be gone?” 

“I don’t know. He’s just disappeared.” 

“Well, find him!” Uhura said. “Find him. We didn’t come all this way just to lose them now.” 

“I’m looking, I’m looking. But…” 

“We’ll have them both back in ten minutes,” Sulu said with far more confidence than he actually felt. “You’re right. We didn’t come this far just to lose them now.” 

#

Jim knew the second they left the nexus because his chest started to ache once again. Did the other two men notice the difference in the air quality? Or was he susceptible to it because of his prolonged exposure? That seemed like the most reasonable explanation, but he couldn’t help but feel a stab of irritation when they began scampering around like men half their age while he could barely pull in a deep breath. 

Picard knew exactly how the fight went down and the moment he lost the battle. All he needed them to do was distract Soran from launching the rocket into the sun while Picard disabled the rocket. In theory, that sounded like a perfectly straightforward mission. And a perfectly easy one. There was only one of Soran, after all, and Jim Kirk could be in two places at once. But as they prepared to step out of the nexus, Jim wondered if it could really be that easy. Especially since Spock wouldn’t be joining them. 

That question didn’t leave his mind once he landed on the familiar mountain. What had Picard called that place? Veridian III. He had said that the planet was uninhabited and on the other side of Klingon space. As far as Jim knew, nobody had ever been on the far side of Klingon space. Which was only a small part of the larger problem. A problem he didn’t have the time to think about because Soran was poised to launch that rocket. He’d deal with it all later. 

“Just who the hell are you?” Soran growled as the older Kirk appeared in front of him. 

“He’s James T. Kirk. Don’t you read history?” 

Soran scampered down the mountain, the PADD still clutched tightly in his hand. Jim was too far away to catch up with him. He went down the other side of the mountain and doubled back, keeping low and doing his best to not to make a sound or step on a loose rock. Soran hadn’t even noticed him, which was just about Jim’s only advantage without an actual weapon. And without Spock. 

_Don’t think about him. He’s gone. That means you need to stop thinking about him and start focusing on survival._

But what if he wasn’t supposed to leave Spock behind? What if that had been a huge mistake and he just fucked everything up?

_Too late to do anything about it now. You’re got a mission now. So get it done._

Get it done. Right. 

“Actually, I have read history,” Soran said, stepping from behind his hiding spot and putting his gun in Kirk’s face. Kirk didn’t look alarmed, and he kept his gaze on Soran’s face. That was the opening Jim needed. He bent as he walked, scooping up a large rock. “And if I’m not too much mistaken, you’re dead.” 

“No, actually, I’m just getting started,” Jim said brightly before slamming the rock on Soran’s head. He had expected the man to crumble under the blow, but either Soran was stronger than expected, or Jim was much weaker than he felt. Soran responded immediately to the contact, swinging around to slam his fist into Jim’s face. 

Any other time, it wouldn’t have been enough to fall him, but he was still recovering from his injuries. Soran’s fist connected with his already swollen eye, and red pain exploded in his head. He dropped to one knee, cradling his face. Soran approached from his blindside, kicking him squarely in the temple. The word wavered, the edges curling and turning black, like burnt paper. 

_So what are you going to do? Let this asshole kill you?_

No. Not today. Not this way. 

Jim pushed himself to his feet just as Kirk kicked Soran to the ground. Blood flowed freely down Jim’s face, but the pain was gone, lost in the adrenaline and the anger. He grabbed Soran by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet then punched him hard enough to send him spinning towards Kirk. He mimicked the younger version of himself, hitting Soran in exactly the same way, at exactly the same place. 

Kirk didn’t get a chance to add another blow on top of that. Soran reacted quickly, putting one arm up to defend himself while he caught Kirk with a left hook to the chin. His head snapped back, and Soran took advantage of the small window to land a volley of punches. The last one drop Kirk backwards, off a shallow cliff. Jim moved at the same time, driving his fist into Soran’s kidney. He didn’t take the time to make sure Kirk was all right. He just had to hope that the fall hadn’t killed him. Or the landing. 

Soran roared in response and swung his arm wide, catching Jim against his bruised temple. His vision darkened again. He just needed to stay on his feet for a few more minutes. That was all. Just a few more minutes. Even though his head was throbbing and breathing and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost a limb when he lost Spock. How was he supposed to fight with an arm missing? 

Two more quick blows followed the hit to the head. And then Soran was gone, sprinting away from both of them. Jim looked up, watching as Soran did his best to crawl up the mountain to get to Picard. “I don’t think so, you bastard.” 

He crawled up after Soran, forcing his sore muscles to respond to him. He’d get plenty of rest when they were done. Or he’d be dead. Either way, the strange exhaustion was the least of his concern at that moment. His fingers snagged around Soran’s pants. He barely had a grip, but it was enough to pull the man’s foot out from under him. Soran slammed to the ground with a grunt. Jim pushed himself up, crawling over Soran’s back to grab the PADD that was still in his other hand. 

Jim yanked it away from the other man with a triumphant shout—but the shout was cut off by a kick to his groin. His breath squeaked from his throat as he rolled to his back and Soran leapt onto his prone form. 

“Give it back.” He gripped the PADD and tried to yank it free, but Jim’s fingers were tight around it. “It’s not yours!” Soran yanked again, but Jim wasn’t budging. His knuckles ached, his muscles were tight, and he was not going to let go of that fucking PADD. 

The only thing that matched Jim’s determination to hang on to the device was Soran’s determination to take it back. He kept his hold on it and wrapped his free hand around Jim’s throat. His strong fingers immediately cut off Jim’s air, but he wasn’t getting too much of it anyway. 

“Give it back.” He lifted Jim’s head and slammed it back to the ground with each word. “It’s mine.” 

“Over…my…dead…body…” 

“That’s not a problem,” Soran said, his face twisting into a mask of pure hatred. 

_Hold on. Hold on for a few more seconds. Give Picard the chance he needs to dismantle the rocket. Just…hold…on…a few…more…_

“It’s a problem for me.” 

At first, Jim thought that he had imagined the words. Imagined the voice. His last, dying, oxygen-starved thoughts were focused on Spock. That seemed appropriate. 

The fingers suddenly disappeared from his throat, and then Soran was slumping forward and to the side. Nothing but dead weight. 

“Spock?” 

“Captain, you’ve been injured.” He knelt beside him. “Let me take that.” 

“Spock?” Jim didn’t loosen his fingers. Even when Spock tugged at the PADD. “Spock, what…?” 

“You’re…you’re safe now. He won’t wake up for some time. Let me have this.” 

“Kirk? The other one?” 

Spock shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“There’s an older me.” Jim smiled, or tried to. “You’re not the only special one. He…fell down the cliff.” 

“I didn’t see him.” 

“Find him.” 

“I’m trying to take care of your injuries, Jim.” 

“That’s an order,” Jim rasped. “Find him. I need to know.” 

Spock wiped blood away from his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Yes, Captain.” 

Everything faded. Jim was happy to let it go. Shapes. Color. Pain. All of it blurred and faded, but Jim still didn’t let go of the PADD. Was that Spock? Had Spock returned to the planet? Spock had saved him. How? How had he been there when Jim had left him in a large house, with tall ceilings, and rich furniture and his mother? How? 

“Captain? Captain?” That was not Spock’s voice. “We did it. It’s over.” 

“Spock? Is Spock here?” 

“You’ve taken several blows. You need medical care.” 

Several blows to the head. Had he imagined Spock? Perhaps it had been Picard who delivered the final blow, and Jim had only hallucinated the Vulcan. A trick of his oxygen-starved brain. A result of stress and exhaustion. Spock was gone for good. 

“Everybody is safe?” 

“Yes,” Picard said, his deep voice resonating through the stone beneath Jim. “The mission was successful.” 

“I want my ship.” 

“I know the feeling.” 

“Nexus…is gone? It passed by?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can’t return?” 

“No. We can never return. It’s gone forever.” 

Spock was gone forever. Jim stopped fighting and let the darkness overtake him.


	18. Chapter 18

Spock balled his hands into fists and held them tightly as his side, but that did nothing to subdue the tremors racing through his frame. His control was slipping, like it had the first night on the strange planet, except this time, he felt it go. He could call it back. If he engaged his logic and focused on facts, on reason, on the soothing mathematical tables, then he would catch his control before it vanished completely. The red-hot anger surging inside of him was powerful, but it was not overwhelming. Not unless he allowed it to be, and as Spock studied his unconscious Captain and the other men surrounding him, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to give in to the bittersweet flush of heat. 

“I demand to know what has happened here.” 

Four men stared at him with completely different expressions. His older self looked tired and chagrinned, as though he understood Spock’s anger and accepted it. He should have been the first one to remind him that anger was an illogical reaction. He should have been the first to counsel that Spock remember himself and suppress the firestorm of anger growing inside of him. The man beside him was James T. Kirk, but like Spock’s counterpart, he was older. He was also clearly confused, staring at Spock as though he had never seen, never even _imagined_ , a creature like him could exist. To his left, the man who introduced himself as Captain Picard watched him with curiosity and the barest hint of fear. Perhaps he had never seen a Vulcan so close to the edge. Beside him, an older man completed the crescent around the prone body of Spock’s friend and Captain. Spock directed his words towards him. 

“You are responsible for this and I demand an explanation.” 

“Calm yourself. You can’t harm me, so don’t waste your energy.” 

“What about these three? I can harm them.” 

“Spock…” The older, softer voice that sounded vaguely like his own. “I’ll tell you every detail, but we need to…” 

“No. No, don’t tell me what we need to do. Where’s my communicator?” The disinterested man waved a hand, and Spock’s belt, including his weapon, was returned. “How could you do this?” 

“It was my decision,” the older Spock admitted softly. “Q offered the wager, but it was my decision to accept it.” 

“Why?” 

“He was dying.” Q grinned. “You’d be amazed at what people will do when they sense their lives are drawing to a close. He needed Jim Kirk. I could arrange that without much difficulty, so I offered the bet.” 

“All of this was your doing?” Spock demanded. “Putting us on this planet?” 

“Almost all of it. I did not interfere in Jean-Luc’s timeline.” Q waved his had dismissively, as if discussing the timeline of an insect. “His fate is unchanged.” 

“But everybody else’s?” 

Q shrugged. “I never believed in fate anyway.” 

Spock crouched beside Jim, touching the man’s throat. His pulse was weakening. He needed to be returned to his ship. Spock had returned from investigating the other Captain Kirk, surprised to see that his captain had already been overtaken. Before he could even think to form a question, his older self and his companion appeared. That was when the rage had started. They had been manipulated. They had been manipulated in the most intrusive, intimate ways, until it was impossible to tell which decisions were made in their right minds and which decisions were a result of induced insanity. 

“You will return us to where we belong.” Spock wasn’t surprised to hear the faint tremor in his voice. “I do not know what you wished to accomplish here, or if you were successful, but we need to be returned to our own ship and our own time.” 

Q sighed. “You are no fun at all, are you? Even Jean-Luc can appreciate a good joke every now and then. You should be _thanking_ me. Nobody died, you got to see your mother again, and now your older self isn’t going to die in a horrible, painful way. Look at him. He’s practically beaming he’s so happy.” 

Spock followed Q’s gesture, but the older Vulcan was not smiling at all. His fingers were loose at his side, and they were almost, but not quite, touching his captain’s. Spock noticed the tension in his hand, and was suddenly quite certain that in any other situation, the two men would be touching. 

“Perhaps it was his time.” 

The only one who winced at Spock’s cold words, delivered like slivers of ice, was Kirk. He looked like Spock had personally damaged him. 

“How can you say that? Who is going to see to the rebuilding of the new Vulcan while your off gallivanting around the Cosmos? This was for the best. See? This is what happens when I try to do a _nice,_ unselfish thing.” 

“You placed both of us in grave danger. You also endangered the Enterprise, as well as her entire crew. You repeatedly put us in positions that could have cost us our lives, our friendship, and even our sanity.”

“I also saved countless lives today. That’s the part everybody seems to be forgetting. When I do something that results in deaths, I never hear the end of it. Jean-Luc in particular is quite fond of nagging me to death. But I save Spock, Jim Kirk, millions of people on Veridian IV, and all of the lives on the Enterprise-D and this is the thanks I get?” 

“You manipulated my mind to invoke a specific reaction and it is not even possible to know what you’ve done to Jim Kirk.”

“It’s easy to yell at me, I suppose. But what about the person who agreed to the wager and accepted my terms?” Q pointed an accusing finger at Spock. “Don’t you think it’s impossible to betray yourself?” 

Spock shifted his attention once again, but his fingers were still resting on Jim’s neck. “Is Captain Kirk your bond mate?” 

“He is.” 

“That was the source of your illness. When you initiated the mind meld with this Kirk, your body was unable to tell the difference between the two. Despite their differences, they are still the same man.” 

“That is right.” 

“You should not have melded with him, then.” 

“I was…irrational. And vulnerable. Any other time, I could have kept too much of myself from touching him. But after the destruction of Vulcan, I lacked the necessary control.” 

“And what were the terms of your wager?” Spock rose slowly. “Our lives for his?” 

“No.” The denial came with enough force to convince Spock of its veracity, and enough chastisement to make him ashamed of voicing the question. “Yes, the wager did include its risks, but Q was acting me to bet on your friendship, on your abilities, and your skills. My life was in the balance, and I would not have trusted anybody else with it. I insisted that you and Jim Kirk would survive, regardless of what Q did, and I was not wrong to think so.” 

“You were wrong to put us in this position. You were wrong to--.” 

Spock stopped. He didn’t know if any of them truly understood what had happened. He couldn’t trust his own reactions to Jim, and he could not trust anything Jim said or felt. He had left the nexus because he had felt Jim’s absence as soon as he left the house. It had been like somebody had cut out the most essential part of himself and left him to bleed out in a slow, painful death. But was that real? Or was that something Q had done to him? 

“Please just return us to where we belong.” 

Picard stepped forward. “Thank you, Spock. You saved your captain, as well as the lives of millions of people.” 

“I could have made no other logical choice.” He scooped Jim into his arms, wishing the other man would wake up. He didn’t stir. 

“What about us?” The other Kirk spoke for the first time. “Where do we belong?” 

“That is none of my concern.” 

“All of the crew from the Enterprise-D will be joining their destroyed ship on the planet. Including you, Jean-Luc. The Enterprise, including Captain Kirk, will be returned to their proper timeline, no harm, no foul. Abracadabra!” Q snapped his fingers, and the hateful wedges of sandstone disappeared, replaced by the familiar and welcome sight of the sickbay. 

“Spock! What the hell happened?” 

He turned, surprised by his own relief at seeing McCoy’s familiar face. “Captain Kirk is injured. He’s suffered multiple blows to the head, as well as the effects of altitude sickness.” 

“Altitude sickness? Where were you?” McCoy led Spock to the nearest bed while he spoke, and Spock deposited Jim with a small sigh. Somehow he looked _worse_ now. Far too painful. Far too wounded. And far too young. Like he was no more than a child. 

“I will explain it all in time. Right now I think your first priority should be stabilizing the Captain.” 

“What about you? Or the other you?” 

“I am fine.” 

Spock spun around, and somehow the sight of himself brought back the tidal wave of anger. He was shaking again, and a pain developed behind his eyes. One that seemed to bore into his brain until he couldn’t see. 

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation…” McCoy started. 

“There’s not,” Spock snapped. “But I will explain anyway, once you see to Captain Kirk.” 

McCoy gestured at the older Spock and Kirk. “Get comfortable. Nobody is leaving here until I’ve examined each of you.” 

Kirk’s lips twitched. “Some things never change do they?” 

The reference to a doctor Spock never met just made the pain worse. 

“Just who the hell are you?” McCoy demanded. 

“Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise.” 

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Good God. Another one?”

“It would seem so,” Spock said, forcing himself to look back to his unconscious captain. Focusing on Jim didn’t alleviate the anger, but it gave him a direction. “What is the prognosis, doctor?” 

McCoy shook his head. “He has a concussion, and his CO2 levels are all wrong, but it’s nothing that can’t be taken care of. He’ll probably be awake within the hour.” 

An hour. That didn’t seem like enough time to pull himself together, but at the same time, it felt like much too long. Like McCoy might as well have said a hundred years. 

Behind him, the doors slid open and whispered shut again. He didn’t need to hear her voice to know who stood behind him. He might not have shared a bond with her, but his body was completely attuned to Uhura’s. He felt her the moment she entered the room, and he could always pick out the familiar scent of her hair and skin. When her emotions were particularly strong, he could catch a hint of them. Now he felt the hints of pure relief and joy edging in on his mind. He wasn’t ready to see her. He had no choice but to turn and face her. 

She threw her arms around him, apparently unaware of anybody else in the room. She didn’t spare a second glance for the older Spock or Kirk, or for her captain, lying unconscious and bloodstained on the table. She only had eyes for Spock, and he had no choice but to return the embrace, silently assuring her that he really was there, and safe, and things were going to be all right. 

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she whispered in his ear. 

“I am well, Nyota.” 

Uhura pulled back and cupped the side of his face. “You don’t look well. What happened to you?” 

“I was involved in two altercations, but I was not seriously injured.” 

“Your face…” She wiped her thumb across his mouth. He hadn’t noticed it before, but his lips were swollen. Had that been from the fight with Jim? Or the fight with Soran? Or had it been from something else entirely? “Why aren’t you being examined?” 

“I am waiting for Captain Kirk’s examination to be complete.” 

Finally, she looked away from Spock to the table where Jim lay unmoving. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. He appreciated the physical expression of the same horror he felt inside. 

“What happened? Who did this?” 

“I will explain later,” Spock said, but he had no idea just what he would explain. Perhaps he would tell her the truth. Q had manipulated them into certain behavior for his own pleasure. Behavior they had no control over. He had briefly considered omitting many of the details of their experience, but she deserved the truth. “How long were we gone?” 

Uhura wiped her eye with the back of her hand. “Nearly forty-eight hours. But it felt much longer.” 

“For me as well,” Spock murmured, remembering the years he had spent with his mother in the temporal nexus. Remembering both long nights he had spent with Jim in the cave. 

Had Q been responsible for all of it? 

“Didn’t I just tell you three to get comfortable? In case that wasn’t clear, I meant for you to prepare for your examinations.” 

“I better get out of his way,” Uhura said, briefly squeezing him before stepping back. “Call me when you’re free.” 

“I will,” Spock promised numbly. Nurse Chapel took him by the arm and guided him to the nearest bed. He allowed himself to be led there, his attention sliding from Uhura to Jim. 

#

From the moment he had initiated the first mind meld to the second Jim had left the nexus, Spock had received every one of the other man’s feelings. Every shard of guilt, every note of affection, every moment of pleasure, every beat of confusion and doubt. He had made an effort to lower his own shields and reciprocate, but he wasn’t sure if Jim ever picked up on them. Or even realized he was feeling them. A person unaccustomed to the experience might not know what to look for. Was it possible that Spock had only thought he experienced Jim’s emotions? Was it possible that something so sacred, so personal, could be tampered with so thoroughly? 

Spock had consented to remaining in the sickbay after the lights had dimmed. McCoy had announced that his injuries were not permanently debilitating, and if Spock put himself into a healing trance, he’d probably be fit to serve within twenty-four hours. Still, the doctor felt it best if Spock remained in sickbay for observation, and Spock felt it best to simply accept McCoy’s recommendation. If anybody suggested that he was attempting to avoid Uhura and looking for excuses to remain close to Jim, he’d insist that he was only acting in his own best interests by following the CMO’s medical advice. 

Jim lay to his right, silent except for the machinery monitoring his life signs. He wasn’t sleeping. He was still unconscious, lost somewhere beyond communication. Spock couldn’t even feel him tugging on the link they had created. No fear or joy, indicating what he might be dreaming. No pain or numbness. No relief at being on his ship again. No awareness at all. That didn’t mean Jim was in a coma. It most likely meant that the connection had been strained or broken—or had never existed in the first place. A mind meld would answer that question once and for all, but Spock had learned his lesson and would not be initiating another without explicit permission. 

He had told Jim that he felt empty without him, and at the moment the words were uttered, they were completely true. They had come at a great cost to him each syllable slicing at his throat as he spoke. He had torn himself open, exposing parts that were never meant to be seen. If his father had seen that display—if any Vulcan had been aware of it—they would have thought Spock mad. Even when Vulcans chose their mates, rather than having their mates chosen for them, it wasn’t accompanied with that sort of weighty emotion. It wasn’t accompanied with any emotion at all. The _Pon Farr_ wasn’t logical, but nobody actually succumbed to it without having a carefully chosen partner. Even he had had a wife, though now she was lost. 

Q must have been responsible. First, he stripped away Spock’s logic and when that failed to give him the desired results, he had chosen to take Spock’s dignity, turning him into somebody who was weak. Somebody who was at the mercy of tumultuous, impossible emotions. Emotions that should have never existed in the first place. Perhaps Jim’s positive reaction had been unforeseen. Or perhaps it had been a result of Q’s trickery as well. 

The thought disgusted Spock more than anything else. To be subjected to Q’s whims was an experience he would never like to repeat, but the thought of Jim being similarly used made Spock’s blood boil once again. He had been ready to tear that being apart. To literally rip him limb from limb. His captain was unconscious, harmed, and bonded to Spock, perhaps against his will. What would Jim think when he woke up? What would he say? Perhaps he would welcome Spock taking control of the situation and removing the decision from his hands. It would save Jim the awkwardness of explaining that he hadn’t really been interested. 

_But he was himself. He was nothing but himself. He was open and honest. He agreed to the meld for you._ It was Amanda’s voice, once again patiently explaining something Spock simply couldn’t comprehend. It was vivid, as though the woman he had met in the nexus had followed him and was now whispering in his ear. _You didn’t feel another presence in his mind, and his thoughts weren’t disordered._

That much was true. It might have been easy to question his own motives, but he couldn’t completely dismiss Jim’s response to him. His thoughts had been his own, each one tinged with the strength he had learned to associate with his captain. But even _if_ he could be sure of that, he simply couldn’t be sure of his own thoughts. He had essentially been violated by Q, and everything that resulted from that was highly suspect. 

_What feels right?_

The question had always been perplexing to him, but now it was completely meaningless. Hollow. What feels right? How could he even quantify _right_? In the cave, melding with Jim, submitting to Jim, losing himself in the golden glow of his mind and body had felt right. But Q had initiated that. Q had probably been observing every action. It might have been for his amusement, and so how could any of those actions be classified as _right_? 

They could not. 

There was only one logical course of action to take. Since he could not be sure any of the thoughts or feelings he experienced while on Veridian III actually originated with him, he had no choice but to nullify them. They could not dictate any future actions or change the course of his destiny. Jim Kirk was his captain. He might have been his friend. He was not his bond mate. 

“Spock?” 

Spock started, lifting his head in response, only to realize that the other Captain was not speaking to him. 

“Yes, Jim?” 

Spock caught his breath and relaxed against his pillow. It was impolite and inappropriate to listen to the conversation, but Spock hadn’t heard the two of them exchange more than a few words since their arrival in sickbay, and he was curious. Curious about what could have been worth risking lives for. Curious about what his own future might hold—would never hold. 

“Are we really stuck here for the whole night?” 

“Yes.” 

“But I’m fine. The good doctor even said as much.” 

“He wishes to monitor us.”

“Since when do we care about that?” 

“Since we’re guests on his ship, t’hy’la.” 

“Oh. Logical, as always. How long has it been for you since we last saw each other?” 

“Ninety-four years.” The answer was heavy, and Spock thought he could hear every single one of those years in the older man’s answer. “It’s been ninety-four years for me.” 

“It’s been three days for me. Just three days. You came to see me the night before I went out on the Enterprise-B.” 

“Yes, I remember. I…I have relived that night many times.” Spock sensed movement and realized the two men were clasping fingers. 

“Ninety-four years?” Kirk said the words like he didn’t understand their meaning. “That’s an entire lifetime. Was there anybody else?” 

“Never.” 

“Are you telling me you’ve been a monk for nearly _a century_?” 

“Yes.” 

“Even during your…” 

“I stopped experiencing the _Pon Farr_ after you…after you were lost on the Enterprise-B. I managed to sublimate it once our bond was broken. Perhaps that had something to do with my recent predicament.” 

“Ninety-four years.” 

“Yes. That number will not change no matter how many times you repeat it.” 

“You know, in all the years we were together, I never once thought about that. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be spending the rest of your life with me.” 

“I never wanted you to think of that. There was no sense in worrying about something that could not be changed.” 

“I can’t argue with that, Mister Spock. So, in the past ninety-four years, have there been any changes I should know about?” 

“I’m not as flexible as I once was, Captain.” 

“Oh, am I still your captain?” Spock could hear the smile in Kirk’s voice. More than that, he could imagine the smile. His own Captain had teased him more than once with that same smile. 

“As you always have been.” 

“What’s the deal with this Universe? We’re not all evil here, are we? I didn’t notice your other self sporting a goatee.” 

“No, they are far from evil. But they have suffered a great tragedy that’s forced them to grow up before they were ready.” 

“I think we’ve all been through that.” 

“No, Jim. Not like this. They are so young. No more than children. This timeline’s Jim Kirk never knew his father, and might very well be spending a lifetime on a rehabilitation colony except for the influence of Captain Pike. In some respects, he needs the Enterprise far more than you ever did.” 

“And this timeline’s Spock? What’s your take on him?” 

“He is…tormented. The same Romulan who killed George Kirk also destroyed Vulcan. He had lost his home and the stabilizing force that I found so necessary during my own troubled years.” 

“So perhaps he needs the Enterprise more than you ever did.” 

“Yes, perhaps.” 

“Is that why you chose to come back here? Q was ready to send you anywhere.” 

“I am needed here. Forgive me, Captain, if you wished to return to your own timeline.” 

“No. I’m a dead man in that timeline, remember? I have the feeling I’ll be of far more use here anyway.” 

“Your talents are very much needed here.” 

“ _All_ of my talents?” 

“Of course.” 

“Spock?” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“I’ve missed you.” 

“It’s only been three days since you last saw me.” 

“It feels like longer. Come over here.” 

“You do realize we are being monitored?” 

“I don’t think I ever really would have cared about that, but sometime after you died, or maybe after I died, I stopped worrying about such things. Besides, I have the feeling this is going to be our last second chance.” 

“You’re young and spry. You come over here.” 

Kirk laughed. “I’m not that young and spry.” 

“You’re younger and spryer than I.” 

“Oh, fine. Move over.” 

Spock lifted his head, watching as the two older men arranged themselves on the narrow bed. It was not meant to hold two people, and yet, neither of them seemed the least bit troubled by that. In fact, judging from how easily they settled in position, with Kirk spooning behind his Vulcan lover, it was clear they had spent more than one night like that both in and out of sickbay. They both looked content, but Spock went beyond that. He looked…complete once again. Like something beyond precious had finally been returned to him. 

Spock supposed that was exactly what happened. 

The younger Vulcan reached over and touched his captain’s arm. For a brief moment, a link flared to life between them. _Wake up, Jim. If you can hear me, please wake up. I’m sorry I didn’t leave the nexus with you. You were right._

Jim gave no indication that he sensed or heard Spock. With a sigh, he settled back down. It was good that the connection had been broken, or had never truly existed in the first place. It would be easier for both of them to have the necessary conversation without sharing emotions that could cloud the issue.


	19. Chapter 19

“Captain Kirk? Jim? Come on, lazybones. It’s time to wake up.” 

The words came from the other end of a long, empty tunnel, in a voice that he should have recognized, but he couldn’t. Not quite. A woman’s voice. One that he had enjoyed in the past. He found its tone and rhythm soothing in a strange way. Like his ears were attuned to it. He could pick it out of any crowd, no matter how many other voices surrounded it, because when she spoke, there was something _important_ happening. 

“Uhura?” 

“Jim? Are you waking up? Finally?” 

“Uhura? Where am I?” 

“You’re on the Enterprise, Captain.” 

“I am?” Jim tried to open his eyes, but it felt like there were ten pound weights tied to his eyelids. “When did that happen?” 

“Two days ago.” 

“I’ve been out of it for two days?” 

“Yes, and Dr. McCoy is really starting to get annoyed with you. He says you’re being a big baby and milking this for all the attention you can get.” 

“Bones said that?” 

Uhura laughed. “No, not really. But we’re all starting to worry about you.” 

“You shouldn’t. I’m fine. I’m just a little…” He opened and closed his dry mouth. His tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Thirsty.” 

“Here.” She pushed a straw against his lips and he parted them to pull the wonderfully cool water down his throat. “Better?” 

“Much. Where’s…?” Jim’s eyes flew open. “Oh my God, Lieutenant. I am so sorry. I can try to explain but…I don’t know if there’s any explanation for this.” 

Uhura frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

“Spock. Spock…is…I’m sorry.” 

She shook her head. “Spock is fine.” 

“No…he’s not. I left him. He wouldn’t leave me, but I left _him_. And now he’s gone. Just gone. Oh my God, I can’t believe I…” 

“Jim…Jim, listen to me. Spock is fine. He’s here.” 

Moisture stung the back of his eyes and nose. “He’s not. I left him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t do it, Uhura. So I just left him. Trapped…Jesus, I can’t believe I left him trapped there. What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?” 

Uhura grabbed his face, cupping his chin and forcing him to look at her. “Spock isn’t trapped anywhere. Do you want to see him?” 

“You mean my Spock?” Jim shook his head. That didn’t come out right at all. “I mean, you’re not talking about the Ambassador?” 

“I’m here, Jim.” 

He swung his head around, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. “You were there? I didn’t just imagine you?” 

“You didn’t imagine me.” 

“I thought…” 

“I realized my mistake shortly after you left the nexus. When I returned to Veridian III, you were already engaged in the fight.” 

“I’m sorry, I…” 

“You did what you thought was the right thing. I don’t fault you for that decision.” 

“What happened? Why were we on Veridian III at all? How did we get back to the ship?” 

Spock glanced up at Uhura. “It’s a long story. I’m not sure that you’re strong enough to hear the whole thing.” 

“Yes, but he’s going to insist that you tell him anyway. I’ll take that as my cue to leave.” She walked around the foot of the bed, pausing when she reached Spock to kiss his cheek. It was a very brief, very light caress. It might have looked like a friendly gesture to anybody else, but Jim knew his first officer well enough to recognize it for what it was. After all, he wasn’t the sort to casually let people kiss him. 

Jim felt a curious tightening in his throat. 

“Are you sure you want to hear all of this now?” Spock asked, once they were alone in the room. 

“What was that?” 

“I…” 

“Did you tell her?” 

“I have not told her anything. I wished to speak to you first.”

“First?” Jim tried to sit up. Something told him he didn’t want to have this conversation while he was flat on his back. “Does that mean you _intend_ to tell her?” 

“I do.” 

“About both times we...?” 

“I do not plan to go into details, but she has the right to know.” 

“No.” 

“Captain?” 

“No, you shouldn’t tell her. In fact, you _can’t_ tell her.” 

“I fail to see how you can forbid me from speaking to her.” 

“Because I’m the captain and I’ll make it classified information if I have to.” 

Spock studied him curiously. “Why would you do that?” 

Jim stopped short. That was a good question, and he simply didn’t have an answer. If he and Spock were going to be together—and wasn’t that implied with the whole bond mate discussion—then Spock would have to end things with Lieutenant Uhura. But to tell her everything that happened, to make her live the details, just seemed cruel. That wasn’t how you ended relationships, though Spock probably had no clue that it would be cruel. He probably saw it as logical. 

“We need to back up here. Why do you want to tell her what happened? And don’t tell me that honesty is the best policy.” 

“Captain…I have reason to believe that what we felt, what we experienced, on Veridian III was not real. As that is the case, there is no reason to keep the facts from Uhura. She will understand that--.” 

“No. She won’t understand. Trust me. Wait, what do you mean that wasn’t real?”

Jim didn’t speak once as Spock explained who and what Q was, the wager he had made with Ambassador Spock, the trial they unwittingly undertook, and the ultimate outcome. He was mute as Spock explained that Q was responsible for stripping Spock of his control, was responsible for making Spock believe that Jim was his mate, and was mostly likely responsible for Jim being afflicted with the _Plak Tow_. 

“But the next night, we were both in our right minds,” Jim finally protested. 

“I simply do not know if that’s the case, Captain. I don’t know what was real.” 

“I know what’s real. I know what I felt. I know what _you_ felt every single time you touched me. That wasn’t…manufactured. That wasn’t fake. Have you had so few real emotions in your life that you can’t tell the difference?” 

“Captain, I merely wish to protect both of us…” 

“Protect you. You want to protect _you_. I’m fine.” 

“We both behaved irrationally and out of character. I would never attempt a mind meld without permission, outside of the most dire circumstances. It was that meld that started everything.” 

“No, it wasn’t. You did the meld because you said you needed me. You felt _empty_ without me. Don’t you remember that?” 

“Again, I believe that it was Q who made me feel those things.” 

“Oh, I see. So the only way you could possibly want to be with me is if you were brainwashed? That’s nice, Spock. Really.” 

“I did not say that nor did I mean to imply it. But we cannot continue under the assumption that everything that happened between was…real.” 

Jim closed his eyes. He should just agree with Spock. Having this sort of fight with him would not promote a peaceful, logical working relationship with his first officer; however, Spock was wrong. He wasn’t often wrong, but when he did err, it was always a doozy. 

“It was, Spock. It was real. When you asked if I thought you were a suitable mate? That was real. When you begged me for another meld? That was real, too. When you told me you needed to feel me inside of you? That was real. And when you _left_ your mother and an eternity of happiness because you knew I needed you? That wasn’t Q. He probably wanted you to stay in the nexus. That was you and me. That was as real as you can get.” 

“I think it is most logical to pretend none of it happened,” Spock said softly. 

“I can’t do that, Spock. Maybe the first night…but the second one? No, I won’t do that.” 

“But how can you know?” Spock pressed. “Q is a prankster, and he’s quite powerful. What if he only made you feel those things for me?” 

“Why would he do that? It would have been better for him if I hated you and we ended up killing each other.”

“But it was your…feelings for me that prompted you to leave me in the nexus. If I had stayed, you would have surely died.” 

“But you didn’t stay. You came back for me. Spock, do you really think you would have let me die? Do you think Q manipulated you into that decision, too?” 

‘I have no way of knowing.” 

“What about everything you said about fate and destiny?” 

“That was before I knew my actions were not of my own volition.”

“Oh, can it, Spock.” Jim sat up, too annoyed to pay any attention to the sudden pain in the back of his head. “Just…stop. You know what the problem is here? You’re afraid. You’re not just afraid, you’re fucking _terrified_. And then somebody comes along and gives you an out. Great, right? Now you don’t have to figure out what any of this means. Things don’t have to be complicated. You can just walk away.” 

“I am doing what’s best for both of us and the Enterprise,” Spock said tightly. 

“No. Don’t try to use my ship against me. Don’t try to tell me that this is for my own good because I’m the captain. I never thought you to be a coward, Spock. It looks like you’re determined to prove me wrong.” 

Spock’s shoulders stiffened. Jim wondered if he had gone too far, but decided he didn’t care. He might have been more sympathetic to Spock’s plight, but he hated to be told what he was feeling. Or what he wasn’t feeling, as the case may be. Spock might have been logical, but it still stung. For a few short hours, Spock had given him the one thing he had truly wanted in his life. Now he was talking it away. And for what? Because Jim was unworthy of it? Because he didn’t deserve that sort of acceptance? That sort of love? 

That’s what it was. Neither one of them had said the word, but that was what it came down to. And now Spock, faced with the choice of embracing that love or shunning it had chosen to walk away. Leaving Jim with nothing but now-bitter memories and weak justifications.  
“Jim…can you feel me?” 

“What?” 

“In your mind? Can you feel me? Can you hear me at all?”  
“Always. But you don’t believe me, do you?” 

“The link has been broken since our return to the Enterprise, which might be evidence that Q was responsible for it the entire time.” 

“Or you’re ignoring it. Because it’s easier this way. Fine, Spock. You win. I can’t convince you to change your mind. You just want to go back to the way things have always been?” 

“Yes. I believe that is the most reasonable course of action to take at this time.” 

Jim shook his head. “Story of my life.” 

“Jim, please believe me that I’m not saying any of this to cause undue pain.” 

“You might not intend to, Spock, but you do. If you aren’t going to break up with Uhura, don’t tell her what happened. It’ll hurt her. Do you understand? It’ll cut her deeply. She’s the most innocent here, and she doesn’t deserve that sort of pain.” 

“But if she ever learns of it and realizes I didn’t tell her, she will also be hurt.” 

“She won’t learn of it,” Jim said simply. “There are only three people on this ship who knows what happened. I’m not talking, you aren’t talking, and neither is Ambassador Spock.” 

“If you believe it’s for the best.” 

“I do. Look…I’m still really tired.” 

“Of course. Should I tell Dr. McCoy you’re awake?” 

“No. He’ll figure it out sooner or later.” 

Spock inclined his head, then spun on his heel to leave. He clutched one hand behind his back, and Jim thought he saw his fingers shaking—ever so slightly—as the door closed behind him. He had never in his life realized just how silent sickbay was. He couldn’t stay there. He wanted to lock himself in his own quarters and try to deal with the mindfuck he had just experienced. 

Moving carefully, he detached himself from the monitors and swung his legs over the bed. He would have rather worn his own clothes and not a robe to his room, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He supposed he was just lucky he didn’t have to make the trek ass-naked. 

He was covered in bandages. More than he had expected. That, more than the bruising that still mottled his skin, made getting dressed difficult. He could barely lift his arms up to his head, and one foot had a small cast on it for some inexplicable reason. He gingerly touched his eye, pleased to see that the swelling had gone down. He could also breathe without difficulty, and that was something Jim would never take for granted again. The massive, horrifying animal, the puddle of urine, the frigid pond, even the cave, was all fading into a nondescript memory. 

That wasn’t true. The cave would never fade from his memory. Is that why Spock had become so attached to his hypothesis about Q? Because it absolved them both? Maybe Spock had needed that. Hell, maybe they both did. It would certainly be nice to be free from that guilt. It would probably be easier for both of them to work together and function as a cohesive team. What else mattered beyond that? Maybe Spock had made the hard decision so Jim wouldn’t have to, putting their professional relationship and their obligations ahead of their own feelings and desires and needs. 

A nice theory, but that’s all it would ever be. If Jim had somehow figured out the truth, Spock would never confirm it. 

“Have you been cleared to leave sickbay? I’d be careful if I were you.” 

Jim looked up and smiled a greeting at himself. “I’m glad at least somebody around here understands the way Bones rules with an iron fist.” 

“Understand? Hell, I spent at least half of my time on the Enterprise avoiding him.” He said the words with obvious fondness. “Nothing made him happier than when he could fuss around like a mother hen.” 

“That sounds like the Leonard McCoy I know. How’s Ambassador Spock?” 

“Good. Healthy. He’s going to visit a healer once we reach New Vulcan, but he doesn’t anticipate any problems.” 

“I was worried about him. I think Spock expected me to be angry about the whole situation but…hell, I’d do it again.”

Kirk nodded his understanding. “You’re up and about. That’s good. Since yesterday, everybody’s been walking around pretending their not in a panic.” 

“I don’t think anybody around here would be that worried about me.” 

“Worried about you?” Kirk shook his head. “No, they were worried about your first officer taking over and raising hell.” 

Jim frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, he’s been showing all the signs of a very worried Vulcan. It’s not a big deal for you and me, but other people find it…unnerving.” 

“No, I still find Spock pretty unnerving.” He tried again to shrug on the robe and only succeeded in swaying slightly. Kirk grabbed his arm and gently guided him back to the bed. 

“You need to sit down before you fall down.”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to get my bearings.” 

“Get them sitting down then.” Kirk joined him, sitting on the edge of the bed casually, like it would never occur to him that he might not have been welcome. “I’ve been looking around the Enterprise. You run a tight ship. Got a good crew.” 

“I’m doing the best I can. But it’s hard sometimes.” 

“Fun though.” 

Jim smiled. “Yeah, never a dull moment around here.” 

Kirk looked around with a sigh. “I love this ship. I miss her. Every single day.” 

“I love her, too.” Jim smiled a little. “It feels good to know that something is really mine.” 

“It does indeed. Well…I actually stopped in because I wanted to give a couple pieces of advice before we beamed down to New Vulcan. That is, if you don’t mind hearing it.” 

“I can’t think of anybody else I’d want to hear advice from.” 

“Good. First thing.” Kirk held up one finger. “Don’t let them promote you…don’t let them transfer you…don’t let them do _anything_ that can take you off the bridge of this ship. While you’re here, you can make a difference. Things make sense. It’s when you leave…that’s when things start going wrong.” 

“Yes, sir. And the second thing?” 

“Don’t let Spock push you away. He will. He’ll tell you that he doesn’t have human emotions. He’ll tell you love is illogical and unnecessary. He might even tell you that he’s ashamed of what he feels for you. He’ll fight you and he’ll probably try to kill you once or twice, but remember Vulcans can love, and _that_ Vulcan in particular is worth it.” 

“Why are you--?” 

“Because I saw you search for him. Because I saw the sacrifice you were willing to make for him. Because you knew that the only person who could get me to leave the nexus was Spock, and I think you knew that because you would have left for him, too.” 

“I think your advice might be too late.” 

“Why?” 

“Because Spock has already told me…well, basically all those things you said he would.” 

Kirk waved his hand dismissively. “It’s never too late. You know, between the two of us, we’ve died several times. He’s left me more than once. I’ve left him. But we always find our way back to each other. I think we probably always will. You’ve got plenty of time.” 

“What about Uhura?” 

“Yeah, I noticed those two were close. Don’t worry about it. What you have…it’s deeper than that. It’s…well, Spock has a term for it. Have you ever heard of t’hy’la?” 

“No.” 

“Well, you will someday. And trust me, when Spock explains it to you, it’ll all make perfect sense.” 

“You know, we’re not the same person. How can you be so certain of any of this?” 

Kirk shrugged. “Call it kismet. And hey, if you can’t trust yourself, who can you trust?” 

“I’ve always had pretty poor judgment.” 

“You still ended up on the bridge of the Enterprise. That must mean your judgment isn’t always bad.” Kirk squeezed his shoulder affably. “Trust me on this. Keep your ship. Keep your first officer. Everything else will work itself out. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” 

Jim’s smile remained in place until Kirk left him alone again. He didn’t believe that Spock was right, or that his decision was driven by logic. But what Kirk said made a lot of sense to him. _Kismet_. Something about the word appealed to him in a way that _fate_ and _destiny_ never had. He liked it. And whether Spock wanted to admit it or not, that’s exactly what they had between them. 

Jim just had to prove it to him.

He believed he was up to the challenge. 

**The End**


End file.
